January 7, 2023
Cliffs faced my perpetual circuit, sails fattening on their meal of air, seagulls screaming.
My boat entered cliff shadows. Water-engraved silver engulfed a floating flag at my circuit's furthest point, cliffs, oblivion-purple, beyond the flag.
I turned at the flag towards a marble dome that faced my circuit. Parrots, in cobalt above curved-dome contentment, soared like emblems of promise.
To reach dome bliss, you had to ascend a ramp that, despite its grey flatness, offered plenitude, for it led to Peace.
I always lowered the sails near the ramp. Touching it caused its disintegration. I always had to jump back onto the boat and go around again. Hope spouts shoots in most conditions.
The cliffs’ bosoms offered reflection before the next chance; a proper time to act existed, but, impatient, I raced over blue, birds darting, sail-kissing wind yielding mournful yearning, water thundering on rock, palms exploding with green eruptions, seagulls bobbing on azure.
I rounded the flag, turning from oblivion to face freedom.
I lowered the sails. The ramp faced ferns, my heart contracting like a sea retreating from a cliff, then exploding against it in passionate return.
I stepped onto the ramp. Snakes, spiders, and cockroaches swarmed upon the ramp amid a fly haze. I leapt back onto the boat. Next time around, the ramp disappeared again in insect mist. I went round and round, waves surrounding my course, the noise outside my perpetuity like a fire raging against oblivion.
The ramp became insect clouds again. Spiders covered beaches beside the ramp’s insect swarm, the ramp obscured under restless wings. I stepped upon it, ants marauding; I crushed ants by bouncing tennis balls, limbs smashed; the ants still came.
I scrambled back onto the boat, ants, diving into liquid, trying to eat me.
I went round and round, the ramp forever elusive amid mists of mites and fogs of fangs and clouds of claws.
© the author
by Kim Farleigh
Kim has worked for NGO's in Greece, Kosovo, Iraq, Palestine and Macedonia. He likes painting, art, bullfighting, photography and architecture, which might explain why this Australian lives in Madrid. He has received 212 acceptances from over 100 different magazines.