For several hours I did not pine
for my work. I talked to a merman
who swam up to my laptop and reminded
me of fantasy. It seems like there is always
strange magnetism on this planet
from unexpected directions and it will take
all my will to stay here
on my little piece of focus,
before it all churns under
and I become wherever fancy
wanders or wherever memory streaks.
On a black beach where you pull my hand,
a cold wave where you swim beneath me
merman, a fire around which we croon
to the moon and the light turns to
tangerine creases in butter.
Yellow morning, we don't even need to wake up
we have been sleepless, kissing and swimming
like children,
don't wake me.
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