I’m stringing along a river of code…If/Else if/Else..If..If..
The infinite loop breaks my paddle forward until my wooden boat is circling above a sleeping trout. I hope he notices.
The fish is stirred by my current of affection and wriggles out of his cave in lazy surrender. The rainbows fused into his scales puff up with attention, as he cascades between murky shadows and sunlit shores, drawing figure eights. An illustrated promise to rationalize forever and to cement the rest of our lives together in sand.
It is infinity slipping through infinite prisms of fin. My infinite prisons of space and time.
When I was younger, I sank my whole body down under to join currents with that radiant trout. The plan was never to catch the fish- I only ever wanted to be him. And if we could finally marinate together, nothing would stop our vernacular fusion.
Eye to fish eye, he swan through my brunette waves and rubbed his cold oily cheeks against my scaled mane. He blew a line of bubbles and I caught them with the afternoon train.
The stop arrives and my pockets are now poor. I reach for his trail but the river has flooded and the fish all poured out with time. School is past due but I am still floating without vision, waiting for the teacher who averaged her way through to graduation. To hold an upscale degree when merchants are no longer accepting paper.
Going back to the memory’s birth feels easier now. But just before I do, a note slips out from the deep and swims over to my desk. She writes: Is it the trout or even the teacher? Is it the coin or did you bury your treasure deeper? The current will always flow if you’re keen to ride along. Or get out now before time is wasted and gone.