At home,
I'm off thinking about
some things.
It is hot summer
and when I pull it off
over my head, I sense
the ocean trapped in the
fibers of my sweater.
And suddenly,
these words come,
these words that once were
scrawled in semi-darkness
by the water:
What do you dream of?
You're always awake,
and you think I sleep,
not feeling your
restlessnes.
I watch the tenses
of your shoulders
as you scrawl words... and
suddenly I am near
sleep again... and
suddenly I am realizing that
for someone who
has so many dreams,
you never sleep,
even here, by the water.
By the Water