Voodoo Variables

A frigid wind blows from the east. I can’t see an edge to the cloud bank as I bob in the wind slosh which pushes me out to sea. Max sits in the channel, hands raised above his head wriggling his fingertips humming in a dialect unknown.

I say, “Max turn down the winds would ya.”

His fingertips stop for a moment..

Max says over his shoulder,

“Shut up brah I’m concentrating.”

His fingertips start wriggling again, carrying on with his impromptu ritual. After a few jazz hands are thrown in, negotiations seem to be complete and Max floats back into the lineup.

“Give it another five or so.” Max says with a big grin..

Just about on queue a heavy squall buries the shoreline and the wind too. As the wind chop is carried out to sea. The sound and texture in the air leaves with it. The crackling sound of rolling coral takes its place. A close out lands on the shelf with a thud in the otherwise quiet, crisp air. The reef shelf begins to bubble with carbonation as another set approaches and the voodoo takes hold..