in scarcity i flew south
and things could not follow
across that water
the southern ocean that talks
moans
and shrieks
whispers
refuses
to say anything at all.
that bastard water. just waits there.
bouncing off the coast and coming back for more.
and more
wherever and whatever coast,
if you walk in,
wade in,
crawl in,
cry in,
if you
feel like a fucking dip,
that damn sea pushes you back;
waves never running from the shore
i was born on an island
but never gave a shit
about any of that water
lapping and licking and fucking and dying and calling
and all as close as cowichan bay
i once saw an amazing thing.
but i had seen it all my life
or variations of it and completely missed it
when a girl i came later to realize
was absolutely too perfect for me,
saw it everywhere.
