Aquatic Rock Climber: or Writing to make sure I don't have to lose a bet two weeks in a row

Today as I was pulling into my neighborhood I thought about climbing.

My headlights pushed the shadows back like twin bullies, making way down the school hallway. The shadows are young little children, shy and shamed by their own anxiety. They look at the ground as I drive past. The light is my entourage clearing the way for me through the streets, pushing and shoving. The shadows dance and swim around the car swallowing me up in the end.

Like an aquatic rock climber.

Who places this bolt, sets the rope and proceeds. Running out of air, calm and careful. The rope suspends in the water around me like a lazy snake, indifferent and without destination; most likely dead. I move on to the next hold, and the water moves over me. I climb and climb. Out of the sea and wallowing through the delta in low tide. Climb and climb. Hands and feet scramble under the current of the black muddy river, past town and shanty. Up through the estuaries and into the mountains where the river gives way to stream. Tight knuckles and dirty fingernails moving boulders under the rapids. Teams of tourists float above with Disney smiles on their Polaroid faces, making memories on the white water for the family album. The climber goes unnoticed like the giant river turtle ambling below the color of rust rock. The current fights never tiring but slowly I gain. Moving to the source. Climb and climb. Legs like old leather coiled rope, slip and grind along the bed creating mud darkness. Beneath the glass ice I climb, and beneath the dark white ice I climb, and beneath the thick thundercloud ice I claw and scratch the bed moving to the cold source. With the spring runoff I cling for a purchase. Fearing that one slip might send me out into the sea again, lost among all the debris. It washes me clean. Up and up I climb, from creek to spring and soon I am up and up climbing out of the muddy tantrum and into the crystal glacier. Body no longer bright and brand name, but sandy smooth limestone. I disappear into the glacier. I am alone at the source, the end of the journey, a frozen naked stone man.

This is what I was thinking about driving through my neighborhood.