glade is night (and the pits)

the glade looked perfect and lovely. long strands of grass swaying and billowing like water.

we jumped the ledge like an avalanche, throwing our weight down the air like a heavy feather. my smile was like a toothache, i was that happy.

the grassy water was fumes, the smell of crocodile meals and waitresses who hold greasy burgers with one hand. There was no pier, but you stood next to my bike. i was up to the neck in water and obscured by grass, you were dry.

the knife flicked open in your hand, you cut the fuel line and the blue water started spilling out of the artery. i tried to walk, but grass is muddy when wet, sucking on me like an old boot. what are you standing on, i wondered.

you gunned the engine and rode off, a phoenix of flame following the fuel spill. i prayed the water level would rise, so that i could see where you were going. i got my wish - it rose, but i stayed inertia still as the water covered my nose and i sank looking at the wall of grass listening to the distant sound of engine.