Article: 261332 of talk.bizarre
From: gnat@frii.com (Nathan Torkington)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Waves
Date: 1 Dec 1995 10:29:56 GMT
Organization: Interchangeable Antipodeans, Inc.
Lines: 24
Message-ID: <49mlf4$d49@europa.frii.com>
X-Background-Music: Deep Forest
X-Category: original
Status: O
X-Status: 

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.