And it's not that mysterious sea green of unknown, emerald depths but an artificial toxic green. Waves of toxicity, a wholly unnatural slick of luminescent green in the pitch night.
Her undulating surface is a magic tablet, a touch screen of life where every slight depression creates a living, glowing reaction.
Every tear of misting rain punctures the sea, stimulating thousands of pressure points and triggering her to come alive, radiating pinpricks of synthetic green and gold.
Each perforation is a miniature underwater mine blast. A living fireshow complete with pyrotechnic explosions and invisible hands waving sparklers, painting vanishing pictures, writing hidden names beneath the sea. Emotive flashes that last just fractions of a second. And quickly dissolve.
Just the moon playing a nighttime trick? Making refracted light masquerade before my eyes?
But then the wind blows, and the ocean bleeds unmistakably. Every glacial chill touches a million points and she responds with fine lines of faint and brilliant luster. Silken cobwebs powder the blowing swells and flow along the ripples.
Hordes of aquatic lightening bugs buzz and surge across wave rips, each piercing, an acupuncture prick trickling one more incandescent lime drop into the waters. Trying to slowly cleanse and calm the restless.
It's no trick. And the moon plays along, disrupting her majesty sea all night long. Twirling his moonbeams across her beckoning curls while she flutters her flickering eyelashes, tossing, turning, tormented. Until he fades stealthily, she continues bleeding, only placating with the climbing, embracing sun.
Why she allows herself to suffer for such a careless voyeur, you can ask her tonight.
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