The Extent a Shell Collector will go
To satisfy her obsession
I have no impulse control, so when I saw you on the ocean floor, I loaded my lungs to their fullest extent to bring you to the surface. Exhaling loudly, I held you, the shell of a magnificent giant sea urchin. I know you never intended to be dry, or to be my treasure, but the extent of my compulsion to have you as my own exceeded nature’s plan.
I carefully guarded your fragile skeleton right on top of my carry-on bag. Thankfully we had a brief flight home, and you made it in one piece flying under the radar of any possible transportation police who may have deemed you ineligible for exit from a foreign country or for entry into the US.
You are mine, and only mine.
You needed a bleach bath and gentle brushing before your ultimate beauty revealed itself. As you dried in the sun, I lost count of your evenly spaced bumps.
“Spectacularly beautiful,” I couldn’t stop staring at you.
You are such a marvel from the sea, and you are all mine.
You now shall live on, for as long as you physically can, in a glass container on my coffee table where I worship you daily.
The fact that sea urchins still exist and that I can still dive deep and retrieve them at age 66 causes my heart of a young child to sing.
