A Conversation (Rough Draft)

They watched the smoke dance with the flames as the wind delicately tickled their skin. His elbows and toes were pressed into the sand as he lay on his stomach looking upwards.

This feels like a poem. You know?

Yeah. I think so too.

Do you still write?

As much as I can.

Good. Glad to hear it.

He smiles, shyly.

Do you know everything you write by heart?

Yes. No. Well, usually. The ones I like at least. I tend to read them a lot and recite them in my head. I don’t think it’s wrong to appreciate your own work now and then. Plus, sometimes I have to read them a few times before I understand them.

You don’t know what you mean when you’re writing?

Well, I do. I just discover more depth even after I write. It’s hard to explain.

What do you think happens when you die?

Whoa, random. Um. You’re dead. I don’t know. I’ll find out when the time comes.

Don’t you wonder?

I have. I try not to. It’s too much to wrap your mind around.

What do you want once you’re dead?

To be remembered. Loved. Thought about. Only in happiness though.

Do you want to be cremated?

Yeah I guess so. I think most people do. Most people I know anyway. My dad wasn’t  though. I’m not sure why, but it makes me wonder. Maybe it doesn’t matter either way. You’re dead. I only want to be cremated so I can be spread places instead of just being in the ground.

Where would you want your ashes spread?

Well. I had a dream once about this. Ever since then, this is the way I’ve wanted it to be. I want my ashes to be put inside helium filled balloons. Hoping that I have someone very close to me at that time, I want them to let the balloons go over the ocean.

Where?

Hmm…Monterey. Or Seattle. I’ll decide closer to the time, if I know it’s coming. I figure the balloons will rise pretty high above the clouds before the pressure will make them pop. Then my ashes will sprinkle down to the sea. I would like that. Even if fish eat me. I’ll stay in the sea.

What if the fish that eat you are caught, by fisherman or something?

Someone will eat those fish and then I’ll live on in someone else. Many possibilities, you know? Either way, I’ll still be somewhere, or many places. Better than just rotting in the ground. I think so.

He pictured the balloons in his head. Multiple colors drifting upwards and slowly vanishing through the clouds. She laid there staring at him as he seemed to drift away himself.

Are you ok?

Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Just thinking about it.

Dying?

More or less. Other things too. Do you think you could love me?

I do love you.

I mean, like, really love me. Not let go of me.

I’m right here. What do you mean?

Well you’re not in love with me. I’m just company.

I love your company and I love you. Can we drop it? For now. I’m enjoying this.

Okay. Sorry.

No need to apologize. I understand. I’m just really enjoying being here right now.

Me too. I’m glad you chose to come. I missed this.

She smiled at him but only as distant as a smile could be visible. He had already forgot about death as his mind was being smothered by her voice. He stared at her as she looked into the fire. Stray copper hairs floating gracefully in the mellow sea breeze. Her crystal blue eyes were masked by the orange glow of the flames. He wanted to speak to her more about love, but he knew he was better off. He closed his eyes slowly only to open them immediately knowing he could easily fall asleep. This wasn’t a night he wanted to dream through. His lips were dry and lightly salted like crisp, curved pretzels from the sand and air. He licked them continuously only making them worse. She looked at him and smiled again.

There’s lovers out there right now. Doing this same thing in a similar place.

We’re not lovers.

I know but you get what I’m saying. It’s odd to think that somewhere else in the world, there’s a guy and a girl on a beach talking by a fire.

Maybe there’s not.

I believe there is. There has to be. There’s too many people and not enough combinations of things to do. Windowless world.

What?

We can’t see out. We can see the sky but that’s it. We can’t see the other side. We can’t see the meanings. The truths of anything we want to. Nothing to see through but transparent people. I want to see more than that. I want to look through it all and know.

I think I know what you mean.

I can’t really explain it. I’m just getting tired of dreaming up theories but at the same time, if I knew what everything meant, I’d have nothing to look forward to.

You have a whole life ahead of you. Opportunities. Love.

That’s minuscule compared to what I mean. The whole picture. Life. Death. The universe. All the things that everyone wonders about but don’t care about enough to think too long. I don’t do anything anymore. I just think. Thinking doesn’t get you anywhere. I just get more lost and more caught up in my thoughts but I have nothing to distract me from my distractions.

I’m sorry. You seem the same.

I’m sure I am more or less. I’ve just lost touch with everyone. Myself included. It usually feels safe. Safe, then scary.

Scary? What are you scared of?

I don’t know. Completely losing touch with myself and anyone I care about. You. Us.