Pocket Water

By Colton Adrian

I walked into the ocean
with my cell phone in my pocket.
I thought it would let me be closer to the water
is what I told myself to get over it because I had just forgotten it was there.
I also thought it would sizzle and crack and fry
when it was submerged,
like a toaster in a bathtub.
But it was a subtle death. Actually,
it was probably dead before I realized it was in my pocket
which was filled with water.
Pocket Water.
I threw my phone onto the beach behind me.
Which made me think about myself
because what doesn’t?
I wondered about my own death
because who doesn’t?
And decided
I’d rather sizzle and crack and fry
before I fade unnoticed.
And decided
I prefer a beach
over a bathtub.
And decided
I do like my pockets full of water.
______________________
Colton Adrian is twenty-one. He plays with dirt at work and writes when he’s not doing that. He escaped via C-section and was birthed in Williamsburg, Virginia. He’s been there ever since and has been plotting a breakout involving a pen and a pad for the last two years.