While I’m ten fingers deep
in this ashtray of an existence,
he’s good at living.
This infuriates me:
driving off to Little Dume
to swim in the ocean by himself.
It’s the smartest thing to be —
kind to yourself. I want to learn
from a man like that — how to drown
the phantom selves
creeping up like sea foam —
how to thrust
into the singular
body so the ocean fears me.
about the author