salvador dali's mermaids
in the flesh
my favorite game was lying on my stomach in our kiddy pool surrounded by dead desert grasses, envisioning my not-so-unfortunate misfortune of being a beached mermaid. i imagine my little brother might have offered a momentary role as valiant sailor, but mostly i would lie chin deep in the 12 inch water, rubber flippers splashing for hours. the key was to keep ones ankle-bones touching at all times, to maintain authenticity. when the sun was too hot, i'd form a similar position upright in a chair in the shade, & sort through a vast collection of seashells that my mother & i combed the san carlos beaches for. this was my currency, different sorts of shells had different values.
on that beach in san carlos, i lied in the tide playing a similar game. out of the water emerged my dad, gone for hours snorkeling along a nearby reef. his green fishing net was filled with mermaid treasures, i cuddled large purple starfish & laid them all across my legs & shoulders in proper siren fashion. in the bottom of his net was a less accommodating fellow-- an understandably disgruntled octopus, who writhed at my tiny finger's touch. it was a brief visit, but the most alluring part was his magical vanishing act as we let him free into a cloud of his own dusky ink. making friends with such an incredible creature assured my evolving progress into the mermaid i was so certain i would grow up to be.
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