Some Sort of Imagery

[takethisforexample]

When the air becomes this cold and unforgiving, I feign the motions of swimming in Dream Lake and long for the water like I would a person. When I close my eyes, I can see myself hastily approaching the edge of the water like always, stirring up little clouds of sand and sediment. I want to walk the perimeter with that awkward gait of mine, or better yet dive in and swim to the bottom and sit. Light shines through the surface like something out of a hazy memory I might’ve had in my childhood. I wish I had someone to share it all with, to drag there by the wrist and make understand. One day I want to be two people floating on our backs until the sun goes down, and shivering in the dark after making poor use of our time the way I always do. In November the thought seems frozen in place. But it is unrelenting. Coats and blankets don’t contour my body the way water does, and sitting on the shore in bundles only serves to taunt me. A thick sheet of ice would surely defeat me, and snow on top might put me in my grave. I would gladly let the next six month swiftly fall behind me just to be in the water again, and I would give infinitely more than that to have a person to share it with.