My body moves,
then says something about not moving anymore
The baby alligator came up to us. I thought maybe she was saying hello. Her floating eyes above the water, in a circular-doting way, with half a foot of her head cool to the air. She stayed, stopped near us, only a few feet away and for more than an hour lingering in the sun-setting dusk.
I tried, and felt, I did what that girl once taught me, near a body of water. She told me the heron wanted to tell us something. So, I squinted, gently, into the baby alligator's eyes and smiled with my mind.
It felt like we were meeting in the same moment; bouncing cranial magnetic waves--our eyes held in singularity.
//,
Mom...can't you tell me about your childhood?
Or the nights you slunk into bed
with your youthful limbs?
restless
//,
Where's the youth that dad erased from your memory?
//,
Once, Popo said you were so soft when you were a girl,
in a moment of disagreement,
she scoured,
"How hard you are now"
//,
Around the lake I saw a sweet baby alligator sort of like a cat, a cicada on its back who immediately started screaming when I gave it a saw palmetto leaf to grasp onto, a brown-red-tan small speckled frog making itself known hopping as I stepped out of the spot I found to pee in, fast fluttering small bats unfettered from the dusk sky, an orange-red billed white bird who was attracted by the parings of my moms green apple who frightened the baby alligator momentarily.
At some point, I walked oppositely from her figure mostly surveying layers of well-formed rock lain on the floor, recognizing the rocky-texture beneath my feet, quickly replaced by yellow sand after seconds, as I shifted my legs one after the other increasing momentum in my bones.
Notes for today:
I found a lot of writer's workshops online. I don't really know how to write creatively--"formally". I'd like to take a workshop to be introduced to all of it more adequately. I have taken a Intro to Creative Writing in one of my final, if not final, semester of college...but I can't remember much I can translate as advice for oneself linguistically, with instructions...So! SO! so! So! so!
I know people say there's no such thing as synchronicity. But it felt like...me stumbling on an entire page of writer's workshops made available this month-next month-month after-month-month. It seems like a call from _________________.
To be continued.
8/2 12:24 AM
Mom asked me when her next chemo session is. I regretfully but try to optimistically give her options and solutions.
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