don't know. I guess it was music. I couldn't hear too well. It sounded like a jazz piano, you know? Down the beach. Miami beach is wild at night. The hotels and condos are all lit up, but the light doesn't get down to the beach much. Just enough to see where the water starts. I don't know.

Dwight was gone - he was dead. Damn, that's silly. He wasn't dead. I knew he wasn't. But I get these thoughts and I don't know why. He was at the van, which was parked way down the beach at the end of the line of condos. Probably stuffing his face - how could he eat like that? I could never eat when I was on acid. I know it sounds stupid, but when I'm tripping and there's food in my mouth I think it's turning into bugs or something. Dwight says he likes to feel food in his mouth but it disturbs me. I guess you have to eat though, but I hadn't eaten since two days before, except tons of vitamins, and I didn't really care much. It was my vacation, you know? Dwight was dead.

I walked along the beach. I told this guy, back home, like man, I'm going to trip on the beach. Stars dripped into the ocean, pouring onto lighted boats anchored offshore. Waves boiled at water's edge like dark green and ivory neon. My felt melted into the sand as the waves rolled in. I wondered where Dwight was. It was wild.

But there was that music, you know? It was fierce. I looked down at my feet and they were wild. I knew they were there. It was silly, me thinking I didn't have any feet. Sure, I watched them melt and all, but your feet don't just melt away. I was tripping, and I knew I had feet, but I couldn't see them or feel them and it was pretty hilarious. I guess I laughed cause I was really amused, my feet being melted. I was kind of afraid to pick them up because what if they weren't there? It was pretty dark so maybe I just couldn't see them. Dwight would be able to tell me. I wished he was there, but he was probably freaking out somewhere on a mouthful of french fries.

There was this rock and I picked it up. It kind of sighed and blinked its eyes. It was white so I could see it real clear in the light the water gave off. It wasn't making the music, but it was big, like eight inches around and heavy. I noticed my stomach hurt and I felt like I was going to get sick. I could go into the ocean and throw up though. I took the rock, but I guess I already had it, and walked up the beach. That music was a real trip, you know?

Dwight was probably just sitting in the van staring at the dashboard or something. He was always getting into staring matches with dashboards and table tops and boring stuff like that. Man, the ocean, that was cool. I wished Dwight was there to see it with me. The music got louder. It was wild the way the ocean rolled back from the sand and left little bubbling holes. I noticed a bunch of people up the beach. Little kids or something and they were laughing and running. I couldn't see them, just like dark moving blobs. But I could hear them real well and I couldn't hardly hear the music. But it was okay because I kind of like to hear little kids laugh.

This kid showed up, you know? He appeared out of nowhere, practically. Out of the beach, kind of. It was wild. "Hey, you." I guess he said that. I couldn't see his mouth move. "Hey, you." I guess he was talking but I don't know.

"Can you talk?" He said. Sure, I mean, like, I could talk, but I wanted to laugh, because how could he talk? What with his bizarro little kid's head 'morphing around like a sponge doing the Watusi or something. It was wild, that head.

"Yeah, I can talk," I said, and I laughed. He laughed too, and was that wild. To watch, you know.

"Whatcha got?" He said, and stuck out this arm at my rock. His arm looked gross, like it was crawling with ants. Dwight would probably try to eat it. I think I must have been hallucinating, but that arm looked like something out of this world. Maybe the kid had been watching too much Star Trek.

"Is that a rock?" He said. Dumb little kid. What kind of question was that, you know? I mean, sure, it was a rock. I looked at it and it blinked at me with these tired old eyes. I felt kind of bad to see them, like maybe the rock felt sad about me thinking the little kid was dumb. To make up for it, even though the little kid didn't even know, I kind of laughed. I mean, actually it was kind of funny.

"It's the soul of the sea," I said. I don't know why. It was just in my imagination and all. I guess I thought the kid would get a kick out of it. I do stuff like that all the time, make stuff up and all. Dwight eats.

"What do you mean?" The kid asked.

I smiled. "Look at the ocean, man." I pointed out and it was wild. The water kind of glowed. "Tell me that ocean don't have a soul," I said.

This kid's eyes got real big. "Is it really in that rock?"

"Why not?" I looked at my rock, and smiled when it smiled sleepily at me. Some older dude showed up out of nowhere.

"Peter, leave that boy alone. Come back and play with your brothers." I don't know why he called me a boy. I'm twenty. I couldn't see him too well but I thought he was kind of funny. Stern, commanding voice, like he was a drill sergeant or something. What kind of guy takes his kids to the beach at night? What's the beach to a kid without the sun?

The little kid walked back with his dad, I guess it was his dad. Some sand got up and scampered after them a little ways and I laughed. I walked on down the beach past them and I could hear the music real good now. I remembered that I didn't have any feet but when I looked down they were there, fine and all. I wondered where Dwight was, I mean, I kind of missed him now that the little kid was gone. Just to walk with, you know? We were a long way from home, after all. A thousand miles for a lousy vacation of the beach. I wondered where the sun was.

Damned Dwight, but then he gave me my first acid. That was cool, I suppose, but he's always going off to stare at stuff when we're tripping together - leaving me alone. I mean, that kind of bothered me, you know? Not that I get lonely or anything, but I kind of like somebody around, to talk to and stuff, like that little kid. That was kind of a wild kid, you know? What kind of dad won't take his kids to the beach in the daytime? That was weird. I mean, I had to go at night so no one would see me tripping. I was glad to have the soul with me. I don't know. Sometimes I think that being on acid is like being at the bottom of a hole that only one person can fit in, but you can see people when you look out. You know?

I saw this old dude on the beach and damned if he wasn't sitting at that jazz piano. Dwight was really missing something, sitting off by himself gorging his gullet with junk food. He was probably slicing his throat or something, just for the experience. He always talked about doing that, even when we were straight. It was kind of a joke, him slicing his throat. I guess I laughed at it there on the beach but then I got kind of worried. Acid kind of freaks me out sometimes, you know?

That music was wild. I mean, it was great. Who ever would have thought that a jazz piano would make good tripping music? Not me, man. It was great. I went up to the old dude and I could still hear that weird family too. Who takes their kids to the beach at night? I was feeling pretty amused.

"What are you laughing at?" The old guy asked. Man, he was old. Miami Beach is sick with old people, roaming the streets like worn-out androids. He stopped playing the piano and it was pretty strange because suddenly all there was the sound of the ocean and that was it. Even that family got quiet. Just the ocean. Ever listen to the ocean? Yeah. It's pretty fierce. it's big as hell, you know? Wow, like how big is hell, I guess, and that's how big the ocean is. I laughed because that was kind of funny. I guess I got kind of disturbed though because it was so quiet without any of the piano music. It reminded me that my stomach hurt. I must have been staring a while because that old dude asked me what was so funny again. He didn't sound mad though.

I wanted him to start playing again. "I was just liking your music, man. Could you play more?" It doesn't hurt to tell a mother her baby is pretty, huh? I was pretty amused by that thought.

"Sure, son." He smiled and started playing again. It was wild, because you could hear the music bounce off the waves and come back. Those kids were laughing but they just filled in the music. It was cool. I stared up at the hotels off the beach and it was great.

"Why are you carrying that rock around, son?" He was still smiling and playing. I looked at the soul. It was asleep now. Kind of nice. That old piano must be a lullaby, you know?

I kind of laughed. "It's the soul of the sea," I said. I was amused, but then the thing was there sleeping in my arms.

The old man chuckled. You know how like me and them kids were laughing, but like an old person chuckles? This old guy chuckled. Dwight, he abandons people so he can go cut his throat. And damn if my stomach didn't hurt something fierce. "Son," the old guy said, "you been drinking?"

It was kind of friendly, the question and all. I laughed. "Hell, no. I mean, alcohol is bad for you, which is true, I mean." I wondered if that made sense. Damn, because the old fart was going to figure out what was going on, me tripping, you know. I stroked the soul, and it stirred nervously in its sleep. The music went on. I wanted to change the subject.

"Why do you sit out here and play that thing?" I asked. I knew that made sense. I could hear it.

He shrugged. It was wild. "What else does an old man have to do?" He stopped playing. That piano was weird, heaving around under the empty sky like a junkie.

I don't know. Dwight was dead. "Who's around to listen, man?"

Damn, this old guy was a trip. My stomach felt like a bonfire. "You are," he kind of bubbled. Stuff was coming out of his mouth. It was gross as anything.

I shook my head. I thought it would fall off. "I'm only here tonight."

"So I play for the Jaquin family down the way." He played and his shoulders 'morphed like you wouldn't believe. I thought his head would topple right off or his chest split open and let something out. I felt pretty sick.

"So what?" I said. "Are them kids Cuban or something?"

The old man stopped playing again. "I mean, what kind of a man takes his Cuban kids to the beach at night, when there's no fucking sun?" I felt like I was about to throw up.

I guess I shouldn't have cussed. He looked kind of mad, you know. My stomach was messed up. Dwight was gone - still dead or whatever. He didn't even care. I felt like crap.

"Mr. Jaquin works nights," the old man said. "He must sleep in the day. He works hard and supports his family. He has only one night off each week. He - "

I got kind of pissed off. I was sick and this old fart had quit playing so he could bitch at me. I looked at the ocean and it was cool. The soul grew restless in my arms. I couldn't very much believe how visual this acid was, even if it was kind of freaking me out. The ocean looked like electricity. But I was sick. It hurt, like, in my stomach. I guess I should have eaten sometime. I kind of wandered off. I walked out into the ocean. Oh, man, that was wild. I was afraid to look because I knew the waves were washing my legs away. I could feel big hunks fall off. It was kind of painful and my stomach hurt. I was sick, you know? My girlfriend, she never took acid. She stayed in Ohio. I wished she was here, because she would just kind of hug me, you know? Lousy Dwight. I felt real bad. I really messed it up with that old man. What a fucking idiot. He had been playing real nice, but like a dumb acid-head I messed it up. I hugged the old soul and went a little bit deeper. I don't know. The sand was some pretty wild stuff under my feet.

Dwight could have just walked with me, you know? But it was like I couldn't have found him anyway. I don't know. I could remember this night when I woke up from a dream and couldn't get back to sleep. Not that it was a bad dream or nothing, but I reached over to my night stand and flipped on the radio for some sound while I sort of thought about the dream. A Beatles song was playing, one I had never heard before. It was wild. I listened, and stared at the fluid shadows of my hanging plants cast by the moon through the window. I think I must have been about thirteen. The song started slow and melodious, but it quickly picked up. I kept on listening, curious about the sudden turn the song had taken, but still more interested in the shadows and the dream. I felt peaceful, floating there on my bed. Never-never land. Everything soft as dew. Then the song changed again, now into something breathless and moving and soulful - Lennon singing without words. But he was really crying - and my unencumbered ear heard it - crying aloud about something you can never stop crying about. And as I listened - the violins, the wordless tune, wrapped in moon shadows, the voice in the dark - I felt a shiver up my back and a sudden hole in my gut. For a moment all I knew were those sounds that I had never known before. They reached inside and struck a chord that was to echo within me again and again for years to come. And suddenly, there in the dark, I realized that no matter how many times I heard that song afterwards - and it would be thousands of times - it wouldn't be the same. That moment was gone. I couldn't give the song back, couldn't un-hear the music.

And it was like I still felt that way, you know? Standing up to my ass in the ocean, but I was really standing in that hole that no one else could fit in, just me, and I could see people, but I couldn't reach them. I just wanted to find someone. Dwight maybe, or the old man, or that wild little kid, anyone who would just sort of be with me, give me a hug. But I was just a dumb acid-head who was alone, wishing I could go all the way back and un-hear the old man's music and never walk down the beach and never realize that I was in some lousy hole and nobody could get me out.

I threw up then. But nothing came out. I hadn't eaten in days. Man, I'm stupid. I dropped my rock and my gut heaved so much I thought I was going to break apart. My head felt like cracked lead. Ever see a jackhammer? There was one in my head. I kind of looked around and, you know? I couldn't see the lousy beach. I couldn't hardly stand up. Ever taste salt water? It's gross. I think I took too much acid. I mean, I know I did. Damn, I'm stupid, but it kind of disorients me. Going days without eating. Acid. The waves washed up over my head once but I started not to care, since I couldn't find anyone anyhow. Like I couldn't find my feet that time. I mean, I don't know. What happened to the soul, you know? I wondered if I was ever going to come down off of this stuff. The soul, damn. It couldn't breathe under the water. Like someone is squeezing your chest with giant pliers. I should have told Dwight where to go when he gave me this acid. What a lousy trip.

That old man. He was strong. He dragged me to the beach. I couldn't find it, you know. I didn't have any legs. I was kind of disoriented. But he found me, you know? I don't know how. I mean, I guess he wasn't tripping. He told me how stupid I was for swimming when I was drunk. Mr. Jaquin told me what a disgrace I was to the human race. He said I should learn how to act. Dwight, man. I guess I cried, but nobody cared. I mean, how did that old guy find me in the ocean? He patted me on the back but I was in a hole. I felt kind of depressed. I let the old soul drown. I looked at the ocean and it wasn't like electricity anymore. It was just kind of dark. The old soul out there.

Oh. It was the soul of the sea. I guess it's okay then. But I don't know. Someone told me once it takes ten years for a rock about the size of the soul to get worked twenty feet up the beach by wave action. The old soul had finally made it to land and I threw it back again. I wondered if it would remember me or that freaky kid, or that old man. I hoped so. That would be something, at least.

I wandered up the beach. It was so dark. But I imagined, just to pass the time, a day when it was sunny and I was out on the beach with that kid, and we found the soul again. It was cool. I mean, I did find my feet when they were gone. They were there all along, you know? I guess I should quit taking acid, though. I mean, I was kind of disoriented. It took me an hour to find the lousy van.

© Bill Cameron