I leaned into his space, almost daring him to take a swipe.

                Just then, I recognized something in me that I didn’t much care for. I only fight when I’m attacked, or sure to be attacked, that’s my rule. But lately I’ve caught myself taking chances, as if I’m coaxing that rule into play– bending it, even. I knew I should pull back, but the adrenaline buzz was too sublime to cut short. S#@!, I knew full well what I was fighting against.

                In a word: boredom. I was extemporizing heavily, no doubt, but I was alive and alert and free from the usual routine, avoiding another tedious, ass-numbing, clock-watching afternoon at a computer screen. Were I not here now I’d be zoning at the keyboard, drafting charges against another schmuck lawyer who couldn’t resist skimming his clients’ settlement funds, a coke addict who missed the first day of his client’s murder trial, an overstressed divorce attorney who mailed opposing counsel a used tampon with a simple note that said “Thinking of you.”

               He pointed a finger at me. “You’re dead.”

             “You talk a lot,” I replied.

–from Bluebird Rising

                There is a certain poise that comes with understanding the ocean’s moods, tapping a pulse borne of a distinct, untamed, unfathomable energy source. An equilibrium, located on a singular track between the sucking trough and the pitching crest. A sense of perfect balance on a rolling, temporary stage, not a single movement wasted. A spray-blinded late takeoff in roaring Santa Ana winds. A confidence, knowing your instincts won’t let you down.

    --- from Reef Dance