its night time. you're on the pier fishing sharks.

the parking lot light, a white square, sits beside me. companion to show just how far. how safe.

beside the light, except my lighter flicks, revealing grains on blue plastic. blue flames, into yellow. the sea is black. washing up thoughts

staring at my wet feet, far away from here. its raining, your face reflects the red neon of a deli window. a taxi passes across your glasses

you thheek to the ocean she hearths you.

thand there. spread your hands open. a crowd pushes me into you.

thee. you can thay anything. theven breaths. then thay it.

my eye is caught on your yellow nail, hooked up, like i wouldnt notice

the long curve, a spoon of hoof.

long and yellow, how crazy one must be to belive.

to belive anything. to believe you can be heard.

i wouldnt even know where to begin.

i walk on the planks, board, after board, with buckets of dead fish,

and waiting poles.

your sand shark wiggles at your feet, in performance for

the video camera, staring from your shoulder.

   i remember you were teaching me to sail, a mile from shore. black waves, potgugese manowar, tentacles steaming deeper into the ocean so we float in the sun. and warm ourselves at this glorious funeral for our uncle, our grandmother, and your father.

my mother didn't have a funeral for my dad, do you understand. a year ago.

my home, my childhood everything i knew was burned up.

sun on your cheekbones, the brown in your eyes flaming wood

but your mom came in, my mon told me this weekend, and you were there hanging.

when we were together you told me what you felt. and then we felt so close to each other. you believe in history and family is supposed to be everything.

so why isnt it?