Liquid Logic Biscuit
I consider my boat.
Its gentle rocking.
Its snub nose and goose tail.
Its powder blue exterior.
It considers me, too.
It watches how I scoot my butt into its cockpit.
It observes while I spread my skirt taut across its lip.
It considers all white water is made of elevation and obstacles.
It leaves powder blue plastic etched on rocks like animal scat.
It reconsiders its purpose as it hears the rapids approaching.
It tries to abandon ship and tip me over the edge.
It flips me upside down into the water and drags me along the river bed
It hopes I’ll yell ‘uncle’ or just pull my skirt and swim.
It forgot to consider my paddle.
I consider my paddle.
Its ergonomic grip.
Its black carbon fiber frame.
Its repetition in and out, in and out, left and right, left and right.
It considers me, too.
It notices that I grip it too hard on the right side.
It smells my sweat even beneath my dry suit.
It rubs its tongue over all of its chips from careless rocks and river debris.
It sports bright colored stickers for local coffee shops.
It thinks it’s pretty hip and
It loves it when I’m upside down in the water.
It waits for me to use it like a weapon, to twist and roll back into the air.
It wants to shred the white water blue.
just so cool ~
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