He lurches up, a creature from the deeps, and blows a spume of salt water, but his pedalling feet find
He is a foetus again, floating in amniotic fluid, womb-cossetted, drifting in a pinkish dream to the sound of the ocean’s heartbeat.
Suddenly, the waters burst and he is thrust, with unseemly haste, into a world of bright lights and loud noises. He sucks and slavers, wet red lips searching for a nipple. Saliva drools from his tiny wailing mouth. His fists beat a milkswollen breast.
And now wet nappies chafe between his legs; uric acid stings his rash-red skin. Angry tears leak from tiny squeezed-tight eyelids. Instantly, he tumbles into a warm bath afroth with suds; flotillas of yellow ducks and bright red boats bob in the swell created by his chubby thrashing legs.
At once the boats turn to paper, soggy in the algae of the litter-strewn pond. His socks and shoes are sodden, his bare knees muddy, but his heart is free. Then the thick green sludge of the park lake turns turquoise and he stands, toes curling over the cold, tiled edge of the swimming pool, ready to dive. On the count of three. One Two Three! The chilly chlorinated water bloats his nylon trunks, bubbles up around him, and shrivels his boy’s penis to a curled pink shrimp.
Read on HERE (UK) or HERE (USA)