After I swam today, I threw myself down on a towel on the cement. It warmed me up real quick. I had felt all soggy and cold, and I knew the heat of the cement--coming directly from our sun--would ease both discomforts. Maybe correct them altogether.
The towel was small, clean and seafoam green. I placed myself in just the right spot so that I could use it as a shield of sorts. Put half of it over my face while I lied on the rest of it. When my eyes were closed, I could just feel it there. Felt it and the absorbed heat, and then it all began to absorb me.
That was one part of it all. The other part is that when I closed my eyes, I saw one hundred seafoamy green circles. All of these little rounds--one hundred of them. I counted one and all in my great estimation. My eyelashes looked huge somehow.
I saw myself smaller suddenly. I saw myself beginning to see that I'd never know this same thing again. It's gonna look so different next time, granted there even is one after this.
When we see each other again in a few days, we'll look real different probably. Tanlines and grown hairs aside, we'll look very different. Maybe I'm thinking of feeling. We'll feeeeel different. That's what I mean.
Maybe I'll just open my eyes. Maybe you'll look like one hundred seafoamy green circles.