Take Two

This one we wrote after @Shells bowed out for the night so it was @MeeJong, @putski and @ferryman writing off of a word list we created through a free association exercise.

Prompt: Free Association Word List

Watermelon

Salt

Mines

Go

Fish

Tampa

Bay

Shrimp

There's nothing quite like home grown watermelon. Fuck that seedless crap they hand you in grocery stores. The seeds are how it reproduces. When you eat seedless watermelon, it tastes like some eunuch buried in the dirt. The seeds are the power and glory, especially when eaten under the full moon.

But what is a full moon when you’re in the mines? If you don’t have dreams, you can die down there. The darkness, the dank, the foreboding fucking canary. Being buried in dirt is a dream to a miner. You can dig your way out of dirt.

As I toil, my mind wanders to time spent in sunshine. I remember the two of us in Tampa, sunburned and lazy.

Just lying there, under the Sun. Getting our shrimp cocktails and mai tais, or whatever cocktail we were drinking. How far have we fallen? Cocktails and cocktails are replaced with coal dust and tepid water.

Yet we continue to drink. Pretending the sour taste in our mouths is the salt rim of a margarita. How much can you endure with an unending imagination? Unending abominations?

As my pick slams against the wall, I chase shadows and memories. I try to clear my mind, but the corners of my eye are constantly drawn to the monsters that are almost there. My paycheck is the hook, this work is the line, and I'm the fish, caught in the day in and the day out. Caught in a constant midnight.

Go! calls the captain, as we all run to board and prep the boats. Trying to eek a living as watermen. There are shrimp and fish and crabs to be found and caught and brought home.

Are we any different? The watermen from the miners? Is the danger any less? The conditions less cruel? The bowels of the earth or the bay, similar conditions, same pay. We all enjoy the home-grown watermelon just the same.