On Crystal Beach
On Crystal Beach, the people saunter by,
idyllic children play at water’s edge.
A warm wind blows its foam into the skies;
my swimming fins sink quickly from this ledge.
And, lo! my body, buoyant by the salt
forgets; my mind has slipped it’s bony cage.
Free floating, spiny blob as fish; default,
as once defined some centuries before:
I’m orca; playing as a human thought.
Suspended, I am Pisces, lost to shore.
Steered by fins, these eyes are rounded fish lens;
spun forth, no more aerobic carnivore!
But suddenly, Old Triton blows his horn:
Gone is that Crystal Beach; that fish, unborn.