by Jex McCartney
Off shore howling winds
Eight foot and perfect,
Right,
Sounds like every surfer’s dream,
I was almost there,
Except for the 80 people in the line up
I sit while the dream repeats in my mind.
The rocks,
The rocks,
Blood all over
What happened?
Its weird, I grew up with lifeguard Darren.
We used to ditch class together.
With Darren on duty, the dream seems too true.
Too many weekenders in the line up
who should have been somewhere else.
Lack of experience I guess
Dangerous,
Yes!
It was an outside clean up set
I was there and going
It pitched and curled and I was air dropping, my stomach and heart still at the top of the parachute ride at Knot’s Berry Farm.
I yelled at the careless jumper who crossed my path. It was no use. Critical take off cut off by a kook. Water filled my mouth
I was in Sunday’s laundry cycle.
I rolled into the fetal position like a newborn, tossed around like a rag doll. It was only a matter of time ‘till my body was hurled through the rock jetty. Like the dream, it got eerie. Every thing became calm.
With a sharp tug at my ankle from my leash, I was pulled into the black abyss. Even deeper. The nightmare had come true. I was a leash’s length from the rocks, buried in a watery tomb, my board half submerged, with the upper half above, water tap dancing back and forth like an unsettled gravestone
Wait? The nightmare is saved for another day. ER
