Article: 261850 of talk.bizarre
From: Gnat@frii.Com (Gnat@frii.Com)
Date: 01 Dec 95 05:29:00 -0500
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Waves
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AREA:TALK.BIZARRE
From: gnat@frii.com (Nathan Torkington)
Date: 1 Dec 1995 10:29:56 GMT

Waves are sharp as they break, but soften as they reach up
the shore toward me and finally they recede in a harmless
looking film.  It is this last stage that is the most
insidious - they steal the sand from between the rocks,
taking it back to sea with them forever.

I sit on a rock, watching the inexorable progress of the sea
as it comes for me.  The sounds of the waves sooth me, and I
can almost forget the other side of the sea.  Almost.

Yard after yard of wet nylon bearing short-lived fish.
Spray drenching us to our hearts.  Waves to envelop the
boat.  More fish brains than a young man ever need see on a
screwdriver.  The awful awful taste that hasn't yet left my
mouth.
 
The sea hosts unpleasant things.  Man's marriage to it is
most apt.
 
All this I appreciate from my rock, while my father sits
behind me with his own thoughts, his own memories, and his
own rock.  And finally, when we're done refilling ourselves,
we leave.

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