I'm a queen, though without my crown at the moment, since I'm floating on my royal tummy in Lake Washington near Seattle, thirty yards off Juanita Beach. My black hair floats about me like a cloud of octopus ink. I ride high in the water, and not from fat: I have a talent for levitation, and just a trace of extra lift is enough to keep my nose above water. I swim lazily now and then, just to show the lifeguards I'm not drowned. But mostly I just float.

I'm waiting out here like a crocodile to catch a certain girl I lust for. For the longest time, she lies on the beach, baking to caramel in the slow northern sun.

But at last she stands up, and prances into the water. Oh, those thighs!

I give chase. She's a fast swimmer and heads for the deep end, past the first line of buoys. I must follow her across the line, if I want to catch her. And oh, Goddess, do I!

But there's a safety rule, you see, that forbids flotation devices beyond the buoys, and magical talents count. No assists allowed out there--they don't want incompetent swimmers in the deep end. I must set aside my floating ability, all my powers, and dig in and swim hard, all body... if I want to go beyond the buoys.

A NOTE NEXT MORNING

• Swimming = dating. A chronic pun in my dreams, based on the antique slang phrase "the social swim."
• I must give up floating to catch the girl = take initiative, show effort... and it's so damn easy for me to float and drift and watch. I have a talent for that I'm afraid. The Queen of Slack...

A NOTE YEARS LATER

Even after I woke and wrote this all out, I didn't catch "go beyond the boys." Can you BELIEVE that?

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