My father. He swims far out into the ocean — to where we can’t see him. He swims past the rafts the mussels grow on. He comes back to shore. He is exhausted. He said he nearly drowned. He drinks four beers — one after the next. He falls asleep in the sun. He does not get a burn. Mom gets a burn. I do not get a burn. I do not wear a top. I wear my brother’s swimming trunks, the ones he wore when he swam. He is dead. He died diving for octopus. He got caught in a reef in a storm while skin diving. He said he once came across lions that were swimming in the ocean. The lions did not come to the shore. They insisted on staying out in the waves. When it stormed out on the ocean, the lions treaded water, put their maws to the sky, and drank.
Title: Time for Leonine
Subtext: They dive in their skin.
Date: 05 Oct 15 (Monday in the AM)
Time: Less than a minute
Upfeed: Rules of the Game
The Thread (4)
Author's voice in grey.