When you were born,
you missed the shore and
dropped into the evening
ocean. Where the waves crack
the surface and you sink
into darkness further from the sky.
You’re caught in perpetual breast-stroke
for the shivering air above, for the moist,
raw shore of high tide.
But, it’s alright. You can have
a decent standard of life. With some
swim therapy and some buoy-tinted
pills you’ll float in the slightly dimpled
water out of reach of the invading
Is there a way I can move past the waves?
Shores are for people who can really smile.