by Amos Bankhead featured in Issue 0 of the raffish
I thought I saw Jeff Buckley in the river that night. I waded out in the wake and was but a few strokes from catching up with the ghost.
He was out there—of this much I am certain—and in pursuit I looked back to see the girls walk down to the water, peering out into the darkness, looking for us. It was a bastard current brought me back to the beach, but that which has returned is but half of he who ventured out; I was cleaved by a current in opposition. I emerged from the dark water, newly amphibious, feeling my feet planted firmly on solid ground, while part of me remains aqueous and swims now with my dream brother.
Amos Bankhead is a writer and deckman in an Uruguayan fishing village, contributing pseudonymous work to various publications.