Adaptation (200 words, 150 words)

Adaptation (200 words)

When I was 21, I was tired of school, tired of anger, and sick of hurting.
At Fisherman’s Wharf, I watched ships dock, tie up to drop off their iced, dead fish,
fresh from slow deaths at sea, but before that their lives lived free
in open water, caught up only in the easy life of swim and the peace of eat.

I wandered down the pavement wondering about their quiet lives without care.
Stopping to stare over the edge, I saw a school of tiny neon blue fish zipping
in and out along the wharf side, electric and free, loving the moment.
And jumping in, I imagined, I’d submerge myself and swim straight for the bottom.

Standing down there, my hair waving wildly, I smiled at the darkening time.
I breathed the salt water air and drowned the way a pebble drowns
when it’s tossed in water, still a pebble but now on the ocean floor.
I was transformed then, knew I would adapt because I desired it to be so.

And, picturing me, I waited quietly, my lungs becoming one with the water,
and I transformed into some silent pebble far from the world above that breathed air.

* * * * *

Adaptation (150 words)

At 21, tired of school and anger, and sick of hurting,
at Fisherman’s Wharf, I watched ships drop off their iced fish,
fresh from slow deaths at sea, but before that their lives lived free,
in open water, caught up only in swimming and eating.

I wandered wondering about their quiet without care.
Stopping to stare, I saw neon blue fish zipping
in and out along the wharf, electric and free, loving the moment.
Jumping in, I imagined, I’d submerge myself and hit bottom.

Standing down there, my hair waving, I smiled at the darkening.
I breathed salt water air and drowned as a pebble drowns,
tossed in water, but still a pebble on the ocean floor.
I was evolving, knew I’d adapt because I desired it.

Picturing me, I waited, my lungs becoming one with the water,
and I transformed into a pebble far from the air breathing world.