slippery when wet

The razer thin line is more pronounced now. It is purely circumstantial. A little to one side and I am floating in the warmest salt water, gazing into the mouth of an oyster. Here I can do anything. A little to the other side I am in a thick fog, the blackest night. Trying to keep things in check, anticipate, and conjure up possibility, begins to feel impossible and my hands slip from the monkey bars. I am slipping everywhere. It's like korean barbeque, trying to keep track of the utensils I touched the raw meat with, the ones for cooking, and the ones for eating. These situations are where the most fatal errors can occur. You may laugh, but salmonellla can kill. I'm slipping and only time will tell if I will have to pay the price. I accidentally wrote 'pray' instead of 'pay'. Freud was a genius.

Part of me just wants to hurry all this along - I crave the relief, but that is what I have always done. When the fun begins to pile too high and I know it can't last, my lean changes direction. Maybe this time, I think, the fun can last. Maybe I learned it all wrong.

It is hot, the clouds heavy and dark. We are all awaiting tropical rain.