Laver

I sat for a long time tonight at the fountain in Lincoln Center, daring myself to run through it. Wishing I had the excuse of a movie set and some cameras to make such a wet dash appropriate. Action! And I could slosh right through to the middle; stand there til my clothes hung sopping, my hair was plastered, and I was newly baptized as the kind of girl who Does Such Things.

Instead, my actions were quieter. I sat near the water, not in it, washing out my thoughts one by one.

I got nowhere. Not surprising, I suppose, given the fact that I was perched on an endless, perfect circle, filled with water that comes from the same nowhere to which it goes. Not exactly a place to make progress. And, even worse, my ears were on "Repeat" with a song that I've been listening to all day: Life's like an hourglass glued to a table.

I'm thinking of an ending for us, but I don't know if I can actually act it out. Maybe I'll just write about it. Is that the same? No. It's water, shooting up and landing where it started.