Because

Because it was another scorcher and because I was off today, I decided to take the dogs out to the state park where the water was almost too cold and just right at the same time, and the dogs fetched sticks floating in the current and sometimes, a man or a woman or a child, would pet the wet fur on the the dogs' backs and nod in my direction, thankful for the opportunity to have pet a dog in a state park on a hot day in July, thankful that I was off today and decided to take the dogs on a journey that I'd almost forgotten because the last time I was at the state park I was with my best friend and we had taken mushrooms and everything was startling and loud and then incredibly quiet and still and the water was rushing towards some end I understood but don't understand now, and never will, you see, because back then, thoughts weren't so demanding as they are now and choices seemed limitless and all were fruitful and laughter was really laughter and not laughter with undertones of some vague idea of an end.

And now, after a shower, I remember Tony talking. A lobotomy and how cool it would be to have one, wouldn't it, Curt? I am walking home from the swimming pool. I am looking down at my pruny hands and Tony is going on and on about the brain and my brain is wondering what my fingerprints would look like right now, with these pruny fingertips.

I don't know why I remembered that just now. But it hurts to remember something so small and insignificant sometimes. So fleeting. Ephemeral.

I didn't put my head under water when I was at the river, but now I wish I had.