from STORY



In thought chambers a comparison: his neck stretched as a quiet turtle.




            "Collapses, body smacks shore."










There is a sense that a scream was emitted at the scene.














Or rewritten, not a turtle, a wide-eyed fish shucked on land.














That this could be the beginning of a path to which one is destined to adhere.




"Smacks. Flaps."










The transparent evaluation of thought chambers syntactically structuring guilt.




"I'm sorry."










The apology that teetered on renouncing claims to what was once good fortune.




            "Bird dives."










Incensed to create a heroine dictating through delirium.














She conjured her grandest gestures as star flowers fell.




"The toe is a petal, an ocean."










To move from space that exhibits discomfort was a natural tendency.




            "Sand shoots voluminous."










The story frozen as a climactic sequence duly peaked.




"Sand beads, glitter."










Camera claps a shot of characters otherwise known though mistaken.




            "His wet hand, his legs."










Camera's insistent sequencing of stories




            "Tip to right, bright blue."










Time was not tracked, so finitely sequestered.




            "White vehicle rams."










The story reverts with nuanced protestations.




            "His wet hand, legs."










If beached adequately restfulness will be achieved.




            "An automobile is an ocean."      










Immaculate definition of lounging.




"Rise! Rise! Rise!"










A beach in midday in a foreign land read as a good beginning.





            "Drip, whistle."










The belief that bodies stretched across lounging chairs.




            "Kelped, locks."