Upside Down Kris

  Rocking the Boat It is the light that makes me turn my head to grasp its meaning. It draws me to the boats rocking in all their blueness and redness, swaying their wood from side to side in homage of the sea or perhaps the sky above. I am in awe of the light streaming down, highlighting where my eyes should look, taking me away from my self-absorbedness. It is a unique moment of  the sky communicating to the sea. I am lucky to catch it because ten minutes later the shaft is gone, never to repeat that exact illumination and position of the boats again. I have an urge to call him–the one I left at home. The weight of what was not said weighs down my arms as much as the heavy bags from the supermarket. But I can't call him because in my rush to be by myself I had left my phone behind. I stay here for a moment with the bags hanging but feeling lighter with awe and understanding. It is like I am rocking on one of the boats having an out of body experience.  But I am very much in mysel

She Sea The sea sometimes reminds me of a moody animal. She was so bubbly and frothy this morning, but in a matter of a few hours, she had switched her temperament.    She had grown irritable with the hot sun and the people thrashing about her. Or maybe it was the wind that had brought on her chunky mood. I feel the sea must be feminine in her flow and life giving possibilities. But her fury is feminine, too, although I can't explain why. In the afternoon, her waters rushed–a confusion of confluent lines running in different directions. I feel dizzy watching her pulling while pushing forward. She laps at the shore at the same time as giving me lip for landing my feet in her, soaking me up to my calves. She could have crashed her waves over me and thrashed me under, but instead decided my wet shorts were enough warning. The currents curved and reached and raged, curling and foaming at the mouth while slamming down the brown algae hidden below her green. I had the sensation she wante

  The Sea Giant The seaweed salad stood ready for the giant the other day. A mountainous mount had been piled up behind the boats. That's how the giant would get to the island: on his colossal craft of a boat. He would alight with his fork the size of Triton's trident ready and gobble of up the salad in a few forkfuls. Luckily, the island's residents have discovered the giant's penchant for seaweed salad. They had been deathly afraid that he would demand human or animal sacrifices like in the tales everyone knows so well. (Take Jack the Beanstalk, for instance.) However, the good giant explained that he was actually a vegetarian. You see, he was quite a polite fellow and apologetic about his duty to demand as a giant. No one doubted this fact because it was well known from the Dealing with Giants handbook written about the same time as King Arthur and his Noble Knights . The thing is, in modern times knights have gone out of business, so the poor people knew they had t

Ageless Spunkiness The women chuckled as I caught her eye. Not a guffaw, but a giggle of merriment.   I sent out a "good morning" to her and she tried to collect her face as she responded. Her humor was infectious, and the image of what she must be seeing bounced back to me. I almost burst out laughing. The me of the 'morn must have been something like this: a girl with strands of uncombed hair flying in the wind covered by a loud colored towel. It's hard to tell if she has shorts on, but a white border sometimes flashes out about her bare legs. Her hands are dangling at her side dressed in translucent jellies so as to free her feet which are splashing in the water. Her lips are parted in a lopsided smile which completes the picture of this odd but happy image. This image fuses with another one suddenly spreading in my vision. The other day I glimpsed a woman who I thought must resemble me from behind. She was running barefoot with a fuchsia towel very similar to mine