Ships At A Distance

Somewhere deep inside a coming wave, David’s future ends. He knows the wave is coming for him, not that he could explain this in any scientific or logical way. It is something he knows: like a man knows there is a god. It is a belief so overwhelmingly prime that David’s internal language would fall to gibberish if it ever proved false. For the fifth time in ten years David is on vacation on the coast, waiting, accepting.

From six to eight in the morning, he sits. His legs are crossed indian style and he’s focused on the horizon. If he is force to move or flinch, he does so but he’s working only on a reactionary framework. His self is gone, projected outwards towards the future wave that will take him somewhere else.

It has occurred to him before that this is just a hustle his subconscious is playing on him. It could be a way of letting him take risks outside of the coast. If it is a con it is a long con, a very long con. He has been sure that he will die by the ocean’s hand since the age of eight when Werner Herzog changed his world. As he watched George Clooney break against the waves, David knew that he too would be taken by the sea. Monkey see monkey do maybe.

At the age of thirty two, he should be over this but he finds he can still see himself somewhere on the horizon between fishing boats and oil rigs. The weird thing is, David thinks he’ll be happy on the other side. It has to be better than the moments in wait of moments more important. It has to mean something.

Anyways, it is now 8:05 and he’s back to life. He turns away from the ocean and decides to get some tiger shrimp. Maybe later, he’ll visit that battleship he passed on the way.

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