About The Southern Sea

She was born by the sea, a shallow sea the color of neglected copper. She always hated the sea, and that is why she left it. Like most people who fight impulses she had bad posture. That’s how I found her the lone slumping figure in a truck stop café in the western mid-west. All dry and tired holding a yellow and worn copy of some old theologians essays. I asked her about a volcano under Yellowstone, and she told me that she was from the sea and that all of these new geomorphic processes are new to her. At some point she left to smoke, she came back more dry than before. I think I had been standing the whole time, and when she returned I asked if I could sit down with her. She said no and explained that she was waiting for someone, and that the seat was being saved for them. It was a vinyl fading blue booth and could easily fit four people, but was only being used by one.