No one knows anything,
if everyone is anything like me.

Memories are riddles with solutions
drowned in lies we used to tell ourselves,
bobbing under and above the surface
of lies we tell ourselves now.

Still, there are things to say,
and I say them like everyone.

"No one knows anything,"
is not one of these things.
Why ruin a sun setting on water
while we struggle to bob along?

The darkness of drowning blankets
shared dreams with held hands.

Somehow the life guard's chair
stands a sturdy right angle in sand.
His paycheck arrives by mail.
He buys his girl a ring.

Tides are predicted, and research
arrives in ships that rarely sink.