Fetch, Boy

“My old dog would have swum out into the bay and fetched your frisbee. But he’s dead now, and my new dog won’t do it.”

What a useless thing to say to me. I’d like to call up the spirit of his old dog to fetch my frisbee, and everything else that I have ever lost. Then I’d like to put both him and his new dog on a raft and push them out to sea, to the place where all the cross-currents catch you and pull you underneath.

He saw me playing with a frisbee, and he must have thought I was like everyone else down here on the coastal path. But I’m not, and I was seeking a diversion to make me forget what I am, even if only for those few moments while a spinning discus loops across the sky and then boomerangs back to me.


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