They’re all in a hurry.

All of these brave men and women are in a hurry.
They’re anxious to get home and ******* before their significant others arrive,
ready for a home sweet home experience,
with fine wine and cheesy shows on the tube.

Life simply goes on in cycles,
like a loop video on the metro CCTV.
No heart attack spikes, no heavy breathing, no chance for a near death experience.

We are all obedient mother/father *******,
waiting for the wind to put down the big old tree in front
of our house, so we can have a hot topic on our Facebook walls.

Trying to be different,
mostly in a verbal manner,
is like performing **** with a ***** dolphin,
in front of a tank full of happy sharks.

We’re all in a hurry,
tryin’ to get back home
and ******* good
before the significant part of our life begins.

The kaleidoscope patterns of our footprints in the sand
And those of the seagulls that litter the beach
Like black and white winged pebbles
Are slowly being washed away by the rising water line,
Time and the encroaching tide welcoming us
Into the sea, with the Dolphins and the mermaids
Swimming and lounging on little mountains of rock
Close to the shore, beckoning us into their world.

Our world lies further back, behind the tide line,
The umbrellas and sunscreen and such
To shield us from the blazing sun
That sustains all life in their realm and ours,
And is, perhaps, the first and strongest connection we share
In this blinding world of sand and sunshine,
Where we and them become us.

We wade into the sea, all tentative, coltish legs
And shivers as the waves crash over us.
Everything turns magical as we dive in,
The underwater world blinding us with
It's salty, sandy currents and steams,
But through the rose tint borne
Of our foreignness in this place,
All I can see are dreams coming true.

A lady of the sea paddles up to us,
Offering us her treasures if we'll come
Live in her coral home and breathe the same salt water,
And I, lost in her world, found in her beauty,
Reach out to take her pale hand in mine,
And become as she says,
"I am yours, forever now, as you are forever mine."

Floating, like a specimen,
in a bell jar in the Chemistry Lab
of Grade XI in Lucknow.

I am suspended. I am floating.

Everywhere is blue.

I hear bubbles and see them rise.

I open my mouth and water rushes in,
salty and warm. I can’t speak.
I can’t cry out.

I am drowning.

I think of Varanasi; skulls
that float. Why do dead
skulls float? Why do the living
sink?

I want to rise. The sea
is inky black. An octopus
floats by. A school of clown
fish gaze at me curiously.

I think of swimming
like the fish in a warm ocean
in the Andaman Sea. I hear
laughter, I feel the sun on my
shoulders.

Oh, the sun. I miss the sun.
I crave heat. It is so very
cold. It is so very cold.

I feel something warmer
on my lower back. I look.
A dolphin is smiling.
Yes, smiling!

I look down at myself.

I am a mermaid!
My hair is blonde, my waist
is tiny, and my *******
are encased in shells.

I laugh gleefully.
The dolphin, as if on cue,
swims below me
and I mount him.

And then, like we have been
doing this since time immemorial,
our bodies in sync,
we float upwards.

Joy abounds. An effervescence,
a lightness of spirit, a playfulness
that heals.

The water is getting warmer
and paler. We playfully swim
with all the time in the world.

And as I surface for the air
that I don’t need,
I am full of peace.

Leaping light
Flashing fire
One moment he is gone
But to return
Suspended
Hanging
Then with a splash
Delightful play
He dives
And disappears
And we are left alone
And longing

1982

Sunlight on the sea
       The curved fin of a dolphin
              A lone cloud observes

Cori MacNaughton
12 June 2000

Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.

Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!

Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!

Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!

So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!

For a while now, I've had a thought swimming alongside my awareness, a fin cutting the water as I wait for it to save or **** me. Dolphin or shark? It came near enough for me to make out its shape recently.

**** or save? I know at least that it wasn't a fat guy with a prank fin and a snorkel. It closed on me and I realized what is most painfully missing.

When I am touched, it is simply that.

Dreamlike, my finned pursuer still refused to reveal its whole shape to me, and instead became the emotive image of a hand lovingly reaching for my face.

That small act of love is gone.

It means so much to me, that tenderness, that I ruined the last ship I sailed. I tore every beam apart in my search for what was just a three-legged spider deep in her darkest corner. So I burned down the good ship Treble and used the remains to float away.

I drifted to an atoll and chose a meek *******. It would certainly do, what better place to spend my remaining balance of time?

The breezes whispered and wouldn't stop.

Tides eroded and regrew my ******* until the even rhythm became inherently strange. So steady.

Evenly, unknown, eternity.

When the bottle washed up, I jealously guarded it from the *******. I should not have called the ******* Wilson.

Apparently Wilson controlled the weather.

Several gales and at least one hurricane punished my foolish hide. But the bottles kept coming, encouraged by the raging.

Shortly after, I learned to surf.

Well, I wasn't good at it. And Wilson didn't approve. It only took a little inclementation to sweep me away. If Wilson did control the weather, she must have been exhausted by then.

What a flimsy board.

It was my shield, held wearily up against the hungry ocean. Before my encounter with the amorphous beast, I was just drifting, again, unsure what quixotic urge took me so far.

And then the fin arrived.

**** or save?

Nous etions, en cet instant, prisonniers du bonheur.
Heritiers de cette douce mais, o combien lourde, ferveur
Brulant sous cette peau vernie de sueur, de sable et de sel,
Portes, en princes sous les ficelles des tisseuses de ciel.
Nous regardions le gris a nous ecorcher les yeux,
Aimant de la passion infidele du zenith bleu
Le vide encombrant de nos plus incroyables espoirs
Et le remou sans debut ni fin de nouvelles memoires.
Nous les connaissions, ces esprits, vagabonds des mers
Chassant, au milieu des vagues ces humeurs incidencieres,
Celles la meme qui jadis se prenommaient “reves d’enfance”
Et qui depuis de sont transformes en dependence.
Nous les connaissions, et meme si la nature de ce lien
M’est masque par un sacerdoce qui ne sera jamais mien,
Elle me dicte toujours chaque contour de leur lames grises
Qui de cet air sec et fier sont tragiquement eprises
Nous etions, en cet instant prisonniers de beaute,
Celle la meme qui voit nos poumons dechiquetes
A vouloir engouffrer ce monde entier sous nos pores
Que demain a travers ces lettres je puisse a nouveau le voir.