Mah-Skall-Ick

once upon a time, there was a reef shark.  he lived in the ocean, as all sharks do, but his thoughts were full of rivers.   he knew about them because he once floated in a swell, rain dimpling the water above, with a scarred bull shark.  they never spoke, but he could smell the river on him.  bits of wood, the sharp scent of granite.  it was rare and real.

in the morning, the bull shark was gone.  as the reef shark arrowed along the ocean floor, he would swim through a molecule of river, then lose it.  by the time the sun was high, the river was gone.

sharks are solitary fish.  once they are born, and they can taste, they are part of the ocean, roll with its underwater tides.  they pass over the same piece, again and again, tasting, eating, again.  this shark, though, was different.  he glided over the sharp coral floor, sifting the sand for bits of mud.  he traveled to the end of one reef, past it, to the next, the next.  on the way, he would eat fish if he was hungry, swim dreamlessly when he was tired, then move on.

one day, at the bottom of the wide blue ocean, a piece.  another.  wide awake now.  a third.  swimming hard now.  a fourth.  a dozen.  a river.  a million.

once upon a time, a reef shark swam into the mouth of a river, swam as fast as he could against the cold rush, his mouth full with the taste of it.