umbrella over utopia

The boats sit still against the muted lakeside landscape with clouds taking turns like schoolyard bullies at covering the sun's eye. In a perfect world, I'd always hurt myself before anyone else, but tact has a way of sneaking out the window past the curfew. Mischievous spirits take its place in bed beside you and there's little hope for a night of restful refuge.

I find it best to steer clear of bystanders until the spell runs its course, slamming into the guardrail and sparing friends of ill-conceived remarks in the heat of the moment. It puts me in an emotional tailspin for the shrapnel to pierce them; they've grown bold enough to wear revealing swimwear in my open waters and I want nothing more than their trust.

Entrenched in a drunken stupor, I may witness them on open mic night as they lament over the abrupt closing of their favorite resort. Their tears fill my cup and I cannot bear to stay for the final act. I continue fighting my battles, out of view of the street lights.

All I can say is be strong my little tadpole for the frenzy never lasts. If the patience is there, the rewards are plenty. Before you know it there I am, re-opening the beach and crawling back to you.