The guardian of the Atlantic
Sleeps soft with dreams of panic
He'll never know these raindrops will fall and crush the ground
Now that the birds are back, so is the heat. A shift in the weather, a shift in my mood. Winter tricks get stuck and lose their way. If the summer hits again, it just might stay forever. Salt water makes love stronger. Devoured by hurricane was the pier. Blocks inland lifted by wind and water. The sea finally met the bay. Houses flood like angered mind filling with rage. Dire moments plagued the coast, it's sons and daughters rattled. To the fury of nature, none of this mattered. Taking my shirt off, smelling of rum in the street at midnight, yelling to the elders, spirits or anything, waiting for a reply. I laugh because I know tonight it won't come. I am just a street from the sand. The air is heavy like my heart. Reach the porch under the lamp, a tribe relaxes reminding me of harmony's voice. Eyes only for you and the waves. Like clockwork, crashing, foreign dialect, secret languages, carrying shells, pulling, whipping water, tons and tons, gripping my wild thoughts. I step into the shallowness, it is cold at first. It sends a shock through my legs.
I ride a couple waves, forgetting the world exists.
I am drifting out for a while. I notice the sun has changed spots in the sky. Once again time is standing close by. But in the open ocean, I have no time to trip over hours and minutes. So much could happen in the truly unknown. My body blazes through fire but my skin keeps the chilled feel from the home of the fish. Feet numb. I don't pay for patience everything is free, suspended, floating, rolling around, consumed, hovering with no cares for anything but survival. When submersed I hear a grind. It sounds like a giant metal structure billions of years old keeping the world twisting from its center. I need air so I get back to the surface. I break through it and the air rushes my lungs and my eyes stay blurry for a moment. I hear the sting of my circuit wires and skin cells tingle. The thought of not breathing again creeps slowly into my head-making oxygen more beautiful and delicious to me than it ever has been.
