After parking in the lot beside a silver BMW, I took a walk down the narrow black sidewalk alongside a lake. Still June air filled with distant laughter. Children in waveless waters, murky and fun. The summer heat arrived and no one was ready. Bodies searched for relief in the dark brown lake. The smell of dead snails lifts from reed beds and blows through the air.
I went to the beach for a swim, an escape, to plunge into the cool bliss, but found swamp shores and weeds pulling my feet down. Holding my head in the dark deep below there was true quiet. Peace in the silence, a lack of voices, bliss in isolation, serenity in being alone.
Bubbles bring me back up to the surface. Minds like grocery bags floating in a warm summer breeze, caught on a branch, stuck on identity, the need to be filled. My thoughts clog waters. My mind on a telephone wire, stuck beneath the surface, drowned out by noise, garbage.
Words & art by Charles Denton
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