thought this drowning was an illusionary metaphor, a hologram of incessant pestering. cement bricks and little triggered pleasantries tugging at the father’s wooden shoes from below the current.

I once viewed it through the rippled restlessness, closing off the ability to reach up, out, in. now I sit here cross-legged, understanding the simplicity of acknowledging the truth, the facade I had inadvertently created.

“are you sure you want to see what’s behind this curtain of leopard print sparkles?”

“I do daddy, I do.”

..and there. not an intricate brass machine, nor an organic biological beast full of tempest anger…but a man. a tiny little man.

“well hello there traveler of many pathways. are you surprised?”