The Ocean's Embrace
A boy is called to the ocean
His green sandals knead the darkened sand as he approaches the maw of the Pacific Ocean. The inevitable crashing of the waves calls to him. His petulant birth father tells him the ocean is something to be feared. His petulant birth father fears everything. His crooked toenails and flaky sunscreen capped by his greasy hair revolt the boy. The ocean has no toenails or hair. He is caressed by its gentle push and pull. The lapping voice tells him it has nothing to hide. Even when the sun goes to bed, the water will continue its endless tread. His crusted knees get washed clean in an instant by the brush of the water. The greasy-haired man behind him squeals at his newfound freedom. His head dips below a lulling wave, the rush of air breathes a new life into his lungs. His aching shoes are plucked off of his wriggling toes. The squawking chicken of a man never let the boy wriggle. The ocean lets all the fishes wriggle wherever they want. The tang of the water drifts in and out of his mouth. It trickles into his nose like the smell of the man’s cigarette smoke. But this is different. The cigarettes accost him. The ocean welcomes him. A salty tear is enveloped by the empathetic ocean. His eyes are coaxed shut as he lies under the covers of the ocean. It gently cradles him into its surrounding embrace. The croak of the man will forever be rejected by the lullaby of the pacific. The indents of the boy’s long ago smoothed by the sliding waves. The crown of his head forever seated in the impenetrable hold of its waters.
His green sandals knead the darkened sand as he approaches the maw of the Pacific Ocean. The inevitable crashing of the waves calls to him. His petulant birth father tells him the ocean is something to be feared. His petulant birth father fears everything. His crooked toenails and flaky sunscreen capped by his greasy hair revolt the boy. The ocean has no toenails or hair. He is caressed by its gentle push and pull. The lapping voice tells him it has nothing to hide. Even when the sun goes to bed, the water will continue its endless tread. His crusted knees get washed clean in an instant by the brush of the water. The greasy-haired man behind him squeals at his newfound freedom. His head dips below a lulling wave, the rush of air breathes a new life into his lungs. His aching shoes are plucked off of his wriggling toes. The squawking chicken of a man never let the boy wriggle. The ocean lets all the fishes wriggle wherever they want. The tang of the water drifts in and out of his mouth. It trickles into his nose like the smell of the man’s cigarette smoke. But this is different. The cigarettes accost him. The ocean welcomes him. A salty tear is enveloped by the empathetic ocean. His eyes are coaxed shut as he lies under the covers of the ocean. It gently cradles him into its surrounding embrace. The croak of the man will forever be rejected by the lullaby of the pacific. The indents of the boy’s long ago smoothed by the sliding waves. The crown of his head forever seated in the impenetrable hold of its waters.
His green sandals knead the darkened sand as he approaches the maw of the Pacific Ocean. The inevitable crashing of the waves calls to him. His petulant birth father tells him the ocean is something to be feared. His petulant birth father fears everything. His crooked toenails and flaky sunscreen capped by his greasy hair revolt the boy. The ocean has no toenails or hair. He is caressed by its gentle push and pull. The lapping voice tells him it has nothing to hide. Even when the sun goes to bed, the water will continue its endless tread. His crusted knees get washed clean in an instant by the brush of the water. The greasy-haired man behind him squeals at his newfound freedom. His head dips below a lulling wave, the rush of air breathes a new life into his lungs. His aching shoes are plucked off of his wriggling toes. The squawking chicken of a man never let the boy wriggle. The ocean lets all the fishes wriggle wherever they want. The tang of the water drifts in and out of his mouth. It trickles into his nose like the smell of the man’s cigarette smoke. But this is different. The cigarettes accost him. The ocean welcomes him. A salty tear is enveloped by the empathetic ocean. His eyes are coaxed shut as he lies under the covers of the ocean. It gently cradles him into its surrounding embrace. The croak of the man will forever be rejected by the lullaby of the pacific. The indents of the boy’s long ago smoothed by the sliding waves. The crown of his head forever seated in the impenetrable hold of its waters.
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