so it was there in a one-way mirrored sea
like the symphonies of last nights missing
like dreams, tying together a raft of flotsam
and bottles with only their messages
keeping them afloat, the rocks at the bottom
of the glasses, delirium, the deserts
of time, trying to re-member the mind
dis-membered across a splitting headache
that will teach you as much as zen anecdotes
you tell other people, you only have
what was already running out before,
where someone left the idle shore to lose
and be lost to you who will miss the bliss
of whispers before that last kiss, like a grand mirage.