ocean

the smooth, crisp scent
the fragile state
the oft remembered seldom place
at the end of nowhere, a left at the second
time i lost my patience with life
before you get to the insanely fast speed
after you past the one thing you need.

i need little.
no need to buy
just flesh to touch, a care to hold
a moon to light the evening by.
where is this soul when not here?

i think that i must really try to always
return
i think i must begin to fly.
where better than here?

my roots flow like the seaweed
swaying in the currents
entangling my toes when i attempt to run
and yet, i find nothing edible
just breathing in the salty sweet taste of free
access to the blood of the earth
to the current that carries us all.

i think that i must find a way to keep the ocean inside me.
and perhaps, also, a star to guide me.
and maybe, one day, a moon of my own.
and a boat.
and a horse.
and an island.
there’s little i need, truly.