Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

This piece is best enjoyed listening to a new a capella group of women called Lyyra, perform the haunting Here There Be Mermaids.  The piece pulsates like the surf as it builds to a thrilling climax, and then becalms just as suddenly.

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I’m driving along the coast highway when just as my eyelids are drooping I espy a sliver of an Oregon state park with a couple parking spaces, nestled between the surf and Hwy 101, too small to all but the most curious.

 The beach is almost totally rock, with a couple of incongruous sand patches, like the bald crown on Friar Tuck’s head. I take a seat on a rock and let the waves consume my senses. I relax and synchronize with the surf, attuning to the ebb and flow, neap and flood, systole and diastole that underwrite life on earth.

 I peer into the alternate universe of a tranquil tidepool, with its miniature polity of Miss Anemone pageants, and wily sea urchins selling real estate of dubious title to unsuspecting hermit-crabs, all in an underwater Whoville whose denizens have no clue of the disruption that the next wave will bring. I consider intervention for a moment, but remember that Horton would be an invasive specie to Oregonians .

I am interrupted by insistent splashing as the tide creeps up the slab. As I resettle to a higher spot the wind begins to rustle in the trees across 101 in answer to a markedly rougher offshore surf. I consider saddling up and leaving, but I find the increasing tumult invigorating.

 Meanwhile, the rustle in the trees becomes a soughing, and the soughing becomes a lowing, and the lowing becomes a keening high in the trees, and the keening becomes a polished soprano chorale that lures kittenish cougars and puppyish wolves to the water’s edge to innocently cavort with unicorns.

As the chorale begins driving to a crescendo I take a delirious look at the water’s edge and see a comely humanoid creature beckoning me into the surf with a scaly flash and a powerful thrust.

With a mixture of lust and trepidation, I turn quickly to my side, but the wax earplugs I always bring with me to the seashore are nowhere to be found.
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