A Day at the Beach

A  D a y  a t  t h e  B e a c h,  O r  L e s s o n s  i n  S w i m m i n g :

Pouring from a cup without a handle
waterfalling down
past a fisherman’s hook
my clothes are wet
but my mouth is dry.

Ships all look the same from the bottom up.
There are some waters I'd rather not get to know.

I drape myself across the rocks
Touching gently wet noses
I climbed a mountain once
Naked as the rock
Dug my toes deep into a crevice
Searching for a spring to fill my mouth
And now I comb fish into my hair
I can make sandcastles
And they never wash away.

I take lessons from an oyster -
Scooping pearls into my mouth
Rolling them around my tongue like French.
Je désapprends.

The End

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