Tinker creek.

– Hey.
– Hey.
– How’ve you been doing? It’s been a while.
– It has. I’ve been alright. Just listening to music mostly.
– Oh yeah? Oh is it that album by that guy, uh, the one about the fish or whatever?
– Yeah.
– Have you finished it yet?
– No. I’m on like the 6th track I think.
– Okay. What do you think of it so far?
– I’m not sure what to make of it honestly. I think there’s kind of this abrupt shift in tone between the first four songs and the fifth one and there’s only eight songs on the record so I’m not really sure where it’s going really…
– Well if you knew where it was going it probably wouldn’t be very interesting right?
– Yeah I suppose you’re right.
– And maybe the shift isn’t as abrupt as you think. Maybe it was happening the whole time and you just didn’t realize it. Or maybe it was just time for a change. That happens right?
– Maybe. Is that how you feel right now?
– What do you mean?
– Maybe you’re saying this because it’s how you feel. Like about your life. I don’t know… it’s been a while.
– Yeah. Interesting.
– Where have you been?
– I’ve been here. Working, riding my bike. Thinking.
– Thinking about what?
– My life I guess.
– Oh. Typical.
– What’s that supposed to mean.
– I dunno.
– Yes you do know or else you wouldn’t have said it. So I’m selfish, I’m self-absorbed. That’s okay. And you’re right, I do feel like it’s time for a change, that’s something I’ve been thinking about, incessantly. I can’t escape it anymore.
– Well. Makes sense.
– I feel like I’m being beaten into submission by something I can’t see or even name, like it’s not really there. Or the universe. Or myself. I can look at my life and look at myself right now and I feel like there’s been so much of me that’s just been operating on autopilot for so long, like my words and actions aren’t even my own. Like a robot, like a text-to-speech program on a computer and all of my everything are just command prompts input into my being. In a weird contrived way by a thing I’ll never be able to comprehend.
– That sounds deep. Ironically sort of contrived as well.
– Exactly! And that’s the difference. I feel like I’ve been developing some weird sort of awareness and it’s been making me crazy.
– Is that why you left?
– Well it’s not like you were making it any easier.
– Yeah. Fair enough I guess. Well. What is it that you want anyway?
– I wrote a poem this morning. I was walking down Franklin St and it was barren, all the students are gone and no one was out and the sky was a giant shade of like a million greys all with puffy lips opening to gum me and swallow me up. So I was near the school and I sat down on the bricks because I felt like I would break.
– Is something wrong?
– I was swelling up and I knew I would break and burst but then, when I was blue, there was a parting in the clouds, and a single ray of light shone through for less than a second, and I saw a white, and then it was black, and then it was gone, and overcast again.
– So you wrote a poem?
– Yeah just let me read it to you. Is that okay?
– Sure.
– Okay. It doesn't really have a title. Maybe it will be Doubt, with an exclamation point. Okay, Doubt!
When we doubt our hearts, our bodies react. Tearducts overflow and the face flushes red hot embers. A burning, turning sensation overwhelms, and a pressure in the head seduces the mind to doubt. A cycle of connection, a circle of ever-expanding, inexplicable nervous system responses. When we doubt our heads, our stomach cramps, our fists clench and our thoughts tumble into larger and larger whirls of uncertainty, beating our bodies blue and scabish. When we quiet our minds and center our soul we are receptive to an intuition much stronger than knowledge and knowing.
– And?
– That's it.
– Oh.
– Thoughts?
– Um. Sickeningly sentimental. Embarrassingly earnest.
– That's fucking awesome! Thank you.
– Yeah. Good job. The parting of the clouds are so fleeting in this greyscale world.
– Yes indeed. I think I'll be leaving now.
– Again? But where will you go?
– Back.
– And you'll have me alone again then.
– You can go too if you want. All the color you want is just a deep dive away.
– There is no way out of this place.
– Sure there is. How long do you reckon it takes for a creek to become an ocean?
– Dunno. It depends on how fast the water is moving I guess.
– Okay. We're probably about 16 miles away from the ocean. Stop thinking. Take off your clothes and dive into the creek.
– What? Into the muddy water?
– The mud will clear. Be still and follow the current. After some time you will find yourself merging with another tributary to form the river. Today will be the most perfect day you will ever see. It is the time of the salmon run! When you are in the river you must follow the salmon upstream. They will take you to the ocean and the freshwater.
– But will you be there?
– Maybe. Sometimes in the main stem river you see something shiny in the water and you swim after it and you drown. Your body shifts away from the confluence. Your corpse slides down a muddy affluent and back onto some rocks. Not every body of water will lead you to the ocean. You can never be too sure of where you will end. Only as sure as where you've begun.
– It sounds dangerous...
– Well then. Suit yourself. What happens is what always was to be. You make it up as you go along.
– I just need some time to think.
– Okay. Good luck with that. Maybe I'll see you later or not.
– Yeah.
– Enjoy the rest of your album.
– Thanks.
– Goodbye now silly boy.
– Goodbye.

–
(Fuck it) (Lost)