Me and Tiki: Castle by The Sea
I asked Tiki if she’d ever seen a baby seagull. While she considered I noticed a family behind a window shade of the castle. “See, I told you it’s not abandoned. There’s a family inside. Do you see the babies?” Tiki has trouble seeing from distance and toward magic. “You’re having an episode.” This came from her mouth more as a hiss than a concern. “I HATE YOU!” I screamed from beneath the waves and held my breath waiting for her to hear or pretend that she couldn’t. “Have you ever even seen a Photo of a baby seagull? Did it have feathers? Was it white, transparent, ugly?!” Now I’m angry.
Tiki pulls out her X-Ray Specs and solemnly regards the castle window. She has no answers and fewer questions. But for some reason don’t ask me because I cannot say, she felt huge and wise and respectably repugnant, like Evillene. When Tiki turned on me, she saw through heard through me and fuck it, Tiki smelled through me and my cracked funkdirtsmut shell. Then I break.
Vibrations of despair jiggle my soft insides blending them together like unwanted family reunion jello salad. I am ugly and shelless. Wet sand fills my mouth eyes nose rolling waves push pull me up to the base of the castle and back toward the sea where my sticky skin collects bits of beach glass. “Like you used to gather along the shores of Lake Michigan. Where is that now?” “Storage gone in a little glass jar to find when I return home?” I will paste all and everything to my new shell. Tiki removed the X-Ray Specs and I saw reflect back at me in her beach glass-eyes all and everything except myself as a baby. It is completely possible that I do not exist having never seen a photo of myself as a baby. My shell I know is real because I hear it scrape feel it grow heavy dragging around me as I carry Tiki from sea to sea-window to window looking for the shadow lines of baby seagulls.