There
was the place where the large turtles had their eggs, and it was always a
concern because everyone wanted the new turtles to make it back to the sea but
the electric lights of high wattage along with sounds from the roadways beyond
were in one direction and the moon and melody from the waves in another, a
situation which provided a dilemma, because sometimes the turtles would follow
the lights and sometimes the moon, or so the theory went.
A grand
wedding took place there, and afterwards the bride and the groom sat at a table
down from the rest of the grouping and before dusk a woman bought wares from
another woman by the water, but the first woman was red like a lobster, and
though kind enough, had too much money and power and the purchasing and walking
and all her interactions were a game to her and there was something wrong with
that, something unjust about that that could not be described or brought up in
a court of law or argued with any sense in a debate.
In more
hours the rains began and the humans and turtles both sorted out their affairs
for the time being while the leaves of trees and the man o’war and even the
stucco walls of abandoned buildings seemed to succumb to its power, a power
that could carve pathways in the earth or cause even the bravest souls to pause
and wonder or take stalk and even to harm living things, to take the life away
from living things with its penchant to break and cackle and moan and hold
grudges at once let out after eons and eons.
In the neighboring
town the two were sleeping and dreaming of strange forests where flora and
fauna both grew in geometrical designs and contained colors not of the world
but of other worlds yet unknown and undiscovered and it was well because that
was what dreams were for, to find access to other realms, or to make them up
altogether, and to travel those pathways as far and as often as the dreamer
could.
The
rains stopped in the morning hours and as the sun tried to come up it struggled
against the clouds and the two dreamers, a man and a woman, walked along the
shore with their meagre lunch in plastic bags on their way to the pick up point
beyond and this is what they did most morning of their lives and it was always
the same and not good or bad but the way of things and these things they never
questioned because that was not how they were built and they were busy and
moving constantly besides.
The two
walked for one half hour and the sea was not romantic or blessed or cursed to
them as it was just the sea and they were both beautiful and had a stain under
their fingers from dirt and also various scars and in their heads were wondrous
eyes seeming blacker than places and crevices under secret corals reefs and
then the two entered a pickup truck, the woman sitting in the middle of the men
and no words were exchanged and then the truck began its way with the grouping
in it like a trinity and the street bumped at the truck now and then but the
truck managed and that is how the three went to enter the longer length of the
morning.
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