
In my lane
February 26, 2008Like awkward fish, they swim past me in small suits, drifting in and out of my lane. Their father peers over the bulkhead, attempting an apology.
“I used to be a lifeguard,” I say. “I know how to evade.”
But later, when my streamline off the wall drives me almost directly into one of the small bodies, I sputter.
“Ladies.” I have never sounded more like my mother. “Swimming across my path is a really bad idea.”
This doesn’t relate to this short, exactly, but lots of these shots seem to relate to a kind of lonely yearning for a nice guy, a life partner. There is always a striving, a searching, a wishing, but not an attainment.