With each intake of breath,
The moon dilates behind a thin lid of vapor.
We pass waves back and forth on the surf,
and my lungs crest as the white cap overcomes me with thrill,
and I pass it back. I do this regardless of the weather.
Sediment cleans the bottoms of my feet,
and dead skin washes out into the clear sea.
Sometimes, the still surface gives the sky symmetry
before it wakes up. This is not uncommon.
Passing clouds give the illusion of moving stars,
and I try not to count them.
There are always more than are visible to me.
On a clear night, I can see thousands.
It is both beautiful and unsettling, and sometimes
I think, perhaps too much for me,
I would sail into everything and nothing at all until fizzle,