Tuesday, September 4, 2012

ocean's exhibit

i went to sea world this one time and was in this clear tunnel, see through to sharks swimming (flying, whichever one) overhead and all i could look at was the guy's shirt in front of me, me sitting there pretty in my mother's arms, legs wrapped around her waist.
all i wanted to do was touch it. it was white and mesh and it looked stretchy like crabtraps under the water, i wanted to put my tiny fingertips in between the mesh and pull, pull til there was no space between me and the space between his skin and the shirt, til wewerethisclose and my hand was beyond my ear, and see what it did - see if the shirt would snap from my hands or collapse under the water and the sharks and the imagination of it all...
but my mom slapped my hand away right before it made it there, and i was just a foolish four-year old, in pigtails, thinking the pattern on his skin was the coolest corner of the room i had seen thus far. and in the back of my head, golden curls and all, i knew, i KNEW i wouldn't have known what to do with that fishnet had i the chance to touch it.
application, application.


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