they say the ocean does strange things
but it was i who did that:
i gathered your soul one day
as i paced with the seagulls
as my outstretched arms reached for
stormy sea feathers
but instead, i found this.
and why did my hands reach around my own
and what did they enclose?
the gold of your heart,
like yellow crabs on a scuttling seafloor
like bottle corks and
rusty trinkets washed by
the blue carpet
strewn onto ruptured sand and
buried deep to prick my toes.
and i remember it perfectly:
your face was tanned pink
and there were freckles on your face
where the rays had buttered your cheeks
and your eyes were blue---
pale, because the sun was
making you blind.
we sat on a swing
which creaked like a song
and i thought we might have belonged
in a painting, where the oil colors
would have sculpted the cracks in your cheeks
and the happiness in your smile as
lipstick lapped at your white teeth.
we sat and watched the ocean currents
at the foam that licked the banks dry
and it was a funny thing, really
because they say stars cross lovers
but i think it's the sea---
'cause their currents grab my feet sometimes
and they prod and part out when i touch them
and then they run me forward
and sweep me into the bay
and that's how i ran into you---windswept
brushing sandy fibers out of my watery hair;
and now the two of us sit on our
creaking wooden swing and
we watch the ocean currents
and the gentle sea foam, and maybe it's because
we're only waiting for
something else to happen.