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in the tiny crevice of the mind, (mainly meaning mine) there are two white deck chairs lying almost in the high-tide of the beach. i sit in one chair, people come and go from sitting in the other. behind us is nothing- lets not even think of the land. lets just sit and look out to the waves, slowly (but not threateningly) edging ever-closer toward us. merry seagulls seem content not vying over food, and instead take to happily pottering around our feet, and they leave little prints in the sand, next to our own larger & fuller imprints. 

but lets focus our attention on chair number two. confusingly, this (to me) is the chair on the left. i sit on the right, and i look over to the east as the sun sets behind me, shining a lovely golden glow upon whomever occupies the other place.

i interview

it could be you on this chair, and we discuss things honestly. truthfully. no pretences, no fear. even the thought of mistrust or hurt feelings is gone. i ask questions, they are answered openly. nobody raises a voice, and the breeze and the sand and the sea salt in my hair are all quiet. 

i even bring people back from the dead on these chairs.

an old man, silvery grey hair and a glass eye, sometimes he is on the other chair. and i ask him about what it's like, after life, and he tells me its not so loud. he tells me of anne the girl he loved all his life, even told his wife about, but never got around to telling her. he tells me of his son, dad, and their similarities. he tells me that he is proud of me, but that he is tired now. and we bid eachother farewell, before he turns to wash his feet off properly on the dry land behind me- wherever that is.

i even see people from the future on these chairs.

a woman, thick wavy brown hair with rounded finger nails and a strong cupids bow. i ask her if i do a good job of motherhood, and she says it wasn't so bad. she says of long days in the sun, even stretching into nighttime adventures, that became a happy childhood. she says of her dad, boyfriend, and their similarities. i say that i am proud of her, but i am tired now. she bids me farewell, before running to the other end of the beach to take a dip- wherever that is.

i sit on these chairs and i politely question everybody ive ever known. you should try it sometime- you should meet me on the chair. (you can sit on the one on the left)