New Years

New Years. 2 hours to midnight. 18 drinks down. What are going to do. Through the glitter bowl up in the air. Had a glitter shower, which at the tie seemed so perfectly appropriate, so fundamentally festive, that the idea that you would be finding pieces of glitter for the next two years till you sold the condo did not ever register as a fully formed thought. We debated this party and that one and then as midnight rolled closer, the clear answer how to celebrate was suddenly so obvious, we are going to the beach two blocks away, and we are going swimming, naked to be precise. We stumble down to the beach. Find the closest log and start taking off all our clothes. There’s a group just to the left of us with guitar and drums and when they realize that 6 0people just rolled in and 3 of them are losing their clothes quickly they start playing the stripper song ba-da-dumbs-dada- dum -dum. Naked we run across the freezing sand, our breath lingering in the air, steam, the sand ice cold between the toes, we run across the sand all in Aline, no one leading no one falling behind at almost the equal pace. No problem, the water will be here soon, we’ll jump in then out, back to the sand for a shot of whisky and a pair of pants. God it’s cold. We come of the beach sand into the hard pack, with puddles here and there, hard ridges pressing like knuckles on the bottoms of your feet.tides out. Your brain doesn’t register what that means. The hard ridges in the sand press into the bottom of your feet like knuckles. It’s cold. And dark. Ducking way darker than you thought it would be. Running towards the water, in beach, in January! You lose sight if the other two. You run til your legs ache, till your lungs burn, and your left side is one bug cramp, and you stop. Stand in an puddle barely ankle deep. Wondering where the water is and wondering where your penis went and it’s facing cold and if you wil ever see it again which, if you weren’t so drunk might cause enough panic to induce a stroke, but you put your hands on top if your head and try to slow your breathing and take in as much air as possible in every breath. And just as you start to catch it S. Appears, materializing like a ghost. Did you find it? You ask? Did you swim? No, he says, fuck it’s cold out here. I list M. He just disappeared. I ran till I could run no more. Then turned around and headed back. I get it, you say. And the M appears, looking not wet but thoroughly chilled. How was it? You ask. I never got there he says. I run and run but I don’t never got there don’t even know where it is. Can’t even hear it. “Drink?” Says a women’s voice right beside us. Where did you come frim, says S. You guys looked cold. She says. Irish whisky clutched in her outstretched hand. Thank you. You say. Pressing the bottle two your lips, feeling the warmth slide down your throat and into your core like a orange ember. The bottle goes around once, then twice. My boyfriends gonna kill me she says.