Caressing my face,
Bubbles rush to greet me
Tickling like a sweet spring sigh.

This is only the first.
I am still half
A visitor. Stuck in suspension
Between this world and mine.

Slowly I pass
Through the threshold.
My air-sick ears adjust
To the sounds of the sea.

I stare down
At the small colony
On the sea floor,
My landing gear is down.

Customs arrives.
A grey, French Angelfish
Of the most industrious kind.
But he isn’t obtrusive.

As he flits in and out
Checking my bubbles
Ensuring I am not bringing
Any more air than I should.

No doubt he will stay near
Most of my stay
I have finally arrived,
The coral city stretches before me.

I catch the current trolley
And it whisks me past
Rocky storefronts and coral motels.
Lobster shopkeeps

Rush out of dark
Stores and stand in the street
Giant claws raised
Toward me in supplication.

Beckoning me to come
And browse his wares
While a fish I don’t know
Is busy cleaning homes and stores.

They must’ve dropped out of the school
Which passes by
The pupils in matching uniforms
Of flashing silver and black.

Clown fish wave
To me from their Lawns
Of sea anemone
Before darting back inside.

Here is the kind of place
Where I could put down roots.
Live out an idyllic life
Living in a coral townhouse.  

But for me to stay
Would be severely fatal.
I’m just a visitor
And my visa is about to expire.

I look back one more time
As my head breaks the surface.
The sun stings, I blink.