Before you drowned, I went to the pool every Saturday.
“Is that your class?” you said pointing to the booklet. “Adult Beginners?”
My backpack contained: bathing suit, towel, and a gold watch I didn’t like to wear. But it was useful for knowing the time.
I imagined you watched TV or read the newspaper while I was away. “Sweetie,” I said when I came back. I called you this, or “Hey,” instead of your name.
I never thought about it until you locked the bathroom door.
At dawn, I wondered about the landscape of your name, who had lived there and made nests like birds or hamsters in the wilderness. I wondered if those nests were empty.
I climbed into the wilderness of your name one night in between the time I waited for you and the time you appeared.
The open C contained a lake, almost as peaceful as the one that pulled you under. I looked for canoes and listened for loons. From behind I heard a cluster of dogs. Coyotes, not dogs, you would have said. Dogs have been domesticated to be solitary, you would have explained. I turned around to find fifty-seven golden retrievers wagging their tails. You couldn’t have counted that fast, you would have said. One stepped forward and said, “Would you like to see the moon?” Dogs don’t talk, you would have said.
Sometimes you said really obvious things and didn’t believe in what the heart knew.
The way you walked. I knew you dropped stones to remember your path home.
The golden retriever and I circled the muted glow of your o. “How do you feel about the moon?” It said.
“It looks radioactive,” I said. “I might die from it.”
“Like Marie Curie’s geranium.”
“Radium.”
“I’m a dog.”
Like a prisoner with a hardy spoon I dug a hole under the l, which was too high to climb. I was surprised to find the dirt full of sinewy roots, from where, I couldn’t tell. I grabbed a handful and pulled without regard to release. Sweat sprouted on my neck and head. My breath tightened. Something pulled from the other side of the letter. I pictured a pale witch using her magic and then a Big Foot-like creature with brown hair and a sense of humour.
The moon next door moved closer, giving me a better view of the opponent I couldn’t see.
You appeared.
“Where were you?”
“Having a coffee,” you said as you lifted a Starbucks’ cup in a toast. “Wanna watch the news?” you said.
MAN DROWNS IN LAKE. Fiancée watches helplessly.
I ran towards you, but I had long forgotten (how to judge) the distance between us.
“I thought you learned to swim,” you said.
In the dream, you were a creature of the lake.
I shrugged.