Collected Selfies From the Puddles

By Adrian H Molina

I was at the edge of fall, asking again if we could withstand another icicle winter in the north,
sitting at the foot of an empty clawfoot tub
watching the seabirds vanish, 
a thirty-year time-lapse,
laughing off your ridicule 
over my use of the bath. 

I was swimming in a giant glowing pool
inside our turquoise studio home,
shallow aqua blue water
making up 90% of floor area,
watching curious tourists come and go
watching my movements in the water, 
my teleportations outside 
picking thorn-stemmed roses by the windows,
then back again inside playfully paddling like clockwork.
You returned one day, preoccupied.
I watched, stunned as you hit a switch 
permanently tiling the floor where I had swam everyday. 

I was in the middle of an ocean unknown, 
overcast and hazy, floating with all the people
looking at my compass wristwatch 
watching a small continent drifting north,
sending a forty foot tidal wave our way.
I began calculating survival, 
eyeing a distant rocky shore, 
searching for you to escape with me.
I emerged bloody with sea thorns stuck under my feet. 

I was at the edge of paradise again
talking to a marvelous blonde ghost about the seabeds, 
the sepia plains and stone-filled mountains we left,
overlooking the veracity of white waves
crashing into mars black rocks,
spiraling thoughts
watching aqua swirls curl into shapes unfolding,
feeling like you didn’t want to take the picture
we were offered. 

 I woke up one day
mixing new water colors,
feeling the burnt orange summer dying 
another slow beautiful demise, a waning sun 
turning leaves into fire. 
I started dreaming new sounds.
I started cooking new foods.
I started praising new gods. 
taking new pictures of the raindrops,
slowly collecting another ocean.


Adrian H Molina is a wordsmith, time traveler, and shapeshifter, first cousin to jaguars and quetzals native to the “Americas.” He can be spotted in the portals of your imagination. He was recently featured at the Crestone Poetry Festival. He eats money in exchange for creative ideas. Everything is made up, and he knows his worth. Molina is creating new worlds. You can follow his writings and musings within the matrix on IG @MolinaWrites.


Liked it? Take a second to support Suspect Press on Patreon!

Leave a Reply