He drags her to the water, by the tangled ebony hair. He pulls from it the chopsticks, jewels, secrets. Her smile is pink and crooked. It is a version of a version. She has been gone for a while now and he wants her to come back. Softly, softly, he puts her lips to the mouth of the river. He can see that she needs it but does not know it. He holds her hair back, puts her on her knees, touches the base of her spine. His fingers run up and down. She is so thirsty she cannot see. But she knows it is him and she feels safe and free. She drinks hungrily. Like it has been a while. Arched back, she licks, her mouth is open and searching. She abandons herself, puts her hands in, arms in, feels the coolness and wetness on her skin. She touches her neck, shoulders, chest with this clean clear water. She has to be in it, be wrapped in it. She dives in and twists tumbles, grasps, tangles, flies, moves, can breathe again. She comes up for air, gasping. She lies back and asks the water to take her away. She opens her mouth and swallows, over and over, innocent sins, entranced and almost peaceful. He watches the mermaid. He watches her gulping and wanting.
"Why do you drink like that?"
"Like what"
There is kind silence between them.
"I drink because I can't not drink."
He doesnt ask any more questions because her face says not to, glittering black eyes, skin so happy to feel the universe again. She kisses him lightly on the nose with her wet little face and swims off again. They will see many summers, she hopes.
