he watches the waves
crash against old earth's spine
lapping, licking like they want to reclaim
the clams, the *****, and the ancient
amoeba that abandoned the waters
before time

he knows the sea sounds
are an anthem, for he has been told this
by his friends who surround him, tho now
their mouths are still
as they listen to this
blue symphony

the one who can talk
with his hands signs to him
they are leaving now, dusk
has siphoned the last bit
of warmth from the air

he tells them to leave
him; he will wait for darkness
and when he is shivering with only
black waves as his companions
he will sing, his eerie emanations
a chorus of one among the dancing
waters

you stopped talking to me
because you landed yourself
a girlfriend, but didn't tell me
so I went three months wondering
why you never responded to that
one text, after weeks of hearing
you talk about how you were
going to move to Colorado
and, I dunno, I'm kind of
mad about it because
her name is Joy
and my name
is Brooke and
she falls in blonde
tendrils and, well,


I don't.