First Boot (Booted)

There was one touch, a missed connection that came later, a nerve rattling taunt from the dark waters; but before that, there was one fine take that felt like a clump of weeds at first. There was a half-hearted head-shake or two, and it came in like wood. But the thing must have realised that something wasn’t right. It turned toward the horizon and sped off, a salmon or a submarine. It was hard to tell in the dark whether I was running out of line or not… I lost the game of chicken… tightened the drag… then a single strand of silk is willowing out in the waves; had to reel it in like an empty net, the lost glow spoon a fool’s offering easily paid for a warm night starlit, hazy with a red, setting moon over the ever clattering waves.

p.-