apneia

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago, turned around backwards so the windshield shows. Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse. Still, it’s so much clearer. I forgot my shirt at the water’s edge. The moon is low tonight. Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. I’m not sure all these people understand. It’s not like years ago, the fear of getting caught, of recklessness and water. They cannot see me naked. These things, they go away, replaced by everyday. Nightswimming, remembering that night. September’s coming soon. I’m pining for the moon. And what if there were two side by side in orbit around the fairest sun? That bright, tight forever drum could not describe nightswimming. You, I thought I knew you. You I cannot judge. You, I thought you knew me, this one laughing quietly underneath my breath. Nightswimming. The photograph reflects, every streetlight a reminder. Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.

Desejaram-lhe um ano de muitos mergulhos. Todos os que ela prometera naquela madrugada e todos os que não sonhava ainda dar.