Drips
It was a murky evening. Late summer crisped it's way into autumn, and the dying trees were beginning to match the parched brown grass. Not that there was overmuch landscaping left to be seen around the city anymore; the 4 month drought made certain that frivolities like house plants and manicured lawns were put to the wayside. It made the dripping that much more maddening, a fluid lost to some unappreciative ground, whisked away before it could be detained. It made my daily stroll to the docks that much more unbearable. All day I sat and descaled fish, cut heads off fish, watched fish be brought into port in giant nets, dumped unceremoniously onto scales, into shipping containers; water everywhere and not a drop of it potable. I daydreamed sometimes of drinking it anyway, chugging until my stomach was full to burst and then bathing in the stuff, and letting the dehydration consume me, wither me externally as it swelled me internally. 'twas a pipe dream to be sure, but a consi...