story 10 who are you?
Oh I will find you out.
Here's something I wrote a few months ago for fun.
I couldn't begin to stop searching for my left eye contact lens on the glass kitchen floor of his uncles time share mini yacht. I was half blind swaying. The 1970's soul music and the tenure of the waves to the boat lent my hips a dance move and then coupled my inner knees with symmetrical bruises. It was a glass bottom boat and the kitchen was on the bottom floor. Everyone else was on the front deck, the fireworks were supposed to start any minute. My right hand slid across wiping the floor in a left to right pattern, holding out for that tiny plastic circle of my sight. My left hand pressed against my blind left eye. Waves came to throw me into waist high cabinets bruising my shoulder, then my elbow. My funny bone was safe for now. The glass floor is slippery with fish oil and seawater tracked in from the upper deck. There are bright lights installed on the sides of the boat pointing down into the sea below, illuminating the fish swimming there. Three foot cords of seaweed braided thick with fish food stem out from four central points of the glass floor. The brightly colored fish come to nibble, and then dance in the falsified sunlight at nearly midnight. “It’s enhanced with vitamins,” my boyfriend told me, regarding the seaweed cords. With every great ocean wave I can hear them “OHHHH,” and “Ahhh,” upstairs. And with every great wave I am thrown into another cabinet. The fish still chase my fingers, eyes and mouth open, as if they are also searching for my contact lens from the other side of the glass. Then they nibble on the seaweed cords, then come back to chase my fingers with their mouths blinking faster than their eyes. Open and closed. They kiss the glass like Koi’s do when entertained with food. Koi’s must be excellent kissers, eating everything with their lips, except maybe that goes for all fish. If I do find the contact lens it will be covered in saltwater, bits of fish, cracker crumbs and expensive cheese. I did not bring my cleaning solution due to traffic on the bridge on new years eve. I did not bring my glasses for fear of losing them overboard to a sneeze, laugh, gasp, hiccup, or cough.
My hands waving faster.
I am waving down a plane overhead on a deserted island.
I am stopping a tank in times square.
I am not wearing the right dress.
I shouldn’t be here.
Where is that damn contact lens.
A fish swims up kissing the corner of the floor and I reach out.
I found it!
The captain of the mini yacht cut the power to cut the light pollution to better see the fireworks on new years eve. The fireworks scared all the fish away. In the darkness of the bottom of a glass bottom boat I found my left eye contact lens at the last second. And now I can’t see a goddamn thing.