by Lucas Castro
That evening, the weather in Lisbon was adequate:
A cool summer breeze, a shy sunset in a cloudy background.
The mood in the car was a little more contradictory:
He was feeling free because he was about to
surf for the first time, on what seemed a banal Tuesday,
but also scared by the potency of the waves.
The weed started to kick in, he felt freer and more fear.
They didn’t plan this out, so it was even harder
to hide his stress, he put on the wetsuit backwards
three times in a row, but the splash was imminent.
He was no stranger to this water; he was born here.
feet got wet and the anxiety was washed off,
he rode each wave like it was the last one,
and failing nine times out of ten made it even better,
because he had that many reasons to come back tomorrow.