Past The Outside
Surfers have a world — an earth, a doorway that isn't understood unless you've been here.
We are like fishes
being told we can stay
there’s politics
rip currents
strategy
large black and white spotted sting rays that leap in front of you
lying like god through the morning air
surfers have a world — an earth
a doorway that isn’t understood unless you’ve been here
out pass the chaos of the whitewash
out where the blue and green ripples hum across the ocean towards you
in the pink and gold morning light
like Zeus has taken his wand and beckoned the sky to fall and dance for you
the ocean is my favourite coffee shops
it’s where I meet my friends
the men I date
it’s where I get a degree in philosophy on small days where I talk to the man beside me
whose a cello player
and has toured the world
slept at the bottoms of dusty stair cases
out here
is an existence
between a forbidden world for humans
where we would otherwise collect water in our lungs
where I cheat
and play with dolphins and fish
and they stare up dumbly because we aren’t meant to know–or be here, and yet we are and I am and I understand. 
