Submerged

Early February in the Shenandoah Mountains....

I am caught off guard
I remembered most of the things
from last time I was here
like how to breathe without stopping,
how to live forever,
and the proper way to eat citrus
(as many as possible as fast as you can)

but what I forgot about was the fog
what really makes this place is the fog
so thick tonight that I can stand at the edge of the road
and not even see into the neighbors' yard.
I take off my hat.

As I walk through this new playground
outdoor lights from houses dance like
illustrious rockcandy jellyfish
and I expect at any moment
to be greeted by a cosmic purple
giant squid in a tuxedo

He doesn't show,
so I walk on
conspicuously alone in this
white abyss
where the snow on the ground
merges immaculately
with this heavy cloud that has devoured my world,
so that everything is .White.
Pure white,
Blank white,
Office cubicle, blaring, rat out your brains white.

White.

except the things that aren't -

Line of cedar trees as I start to ascend the hill
blazingly inky fires of coral
burning silently here underwater
(everything is silent except for the things I cannot see)
Past them,
some more tree silhouettes transform into giant seaweed
undulating like hungry yogis
stretching perilously upward toward the unreachable sky they are immersed in.

I'm going up the hill, planning my summer
and somewhere between retiring to California, and
never, Ever paying rent
I encounter this towering creature
long, fuselagenous body,
fins branching out sparsely
I can almost see the knots blinking at me,
and I think
has anyone else ever realised
these giant creatures must be related to whales.

Then I realise
that for once reality is distracting me from my thoughts
instead of vice versa
This is how I want to live
submerged
life happening all around me
instead of skipping across consciousness
surface-tension, faith, assumption.
I want to be part of it.

Then I reach the top
where the view is always breathtaking
much less
this time, I could swear I've actually walked
all the way up, into the clouds.

Pure white.  White.  White.  White.
all around, so that maybe
I've reached the hazy edge
of the thought-bubble that my dream world is contained in
except
the lone, wispy evergreen
looks so convincingly
astonishingly
like a giant crack
that I debate about walking through it.

Stand, staring in utter awe
where the fabric of existence itself
has been fractured like the ice beneath my feet

Surrounded by drips
gurgles, chirps, clicks
could be the rain and the snow,
or the hundreds of denizens of this world
just outside my tiny field of vision

I start to step out, but
then who would feed the dogs?