05 September 2006
7:35 PM
memoryLike a precious hat drifting away
with the current
when you just release your tight grip for a nano-second.
And the ferocious wind continues whistling.
This sea breeze you don't enjoy.
But there's still that string, that lifeline
you'd attached to it.
"Better safe than sorry," you said.
Yet that thread's all tattered, torn, worn.
You curse yourself for failing to replace it.
Renewal's tiring.
So you watch your hat bob up and down and side
along the waves - an unknown deep blue world.
Something's telling you to pull it back.
Yet you simply tie string after string, thread after thread.
And you watch your hat drift out
out
out.
What if a shark bites it?
What if a dolphin breaks it?
What if a fish pulls it?
What if a whale gobbles it?
What if a diver tears it?
What if the knots
aren't secure?
Drift.
Such a calm word, some say.
Such a tragic word, I say.
Such an inevitable word, we say.
