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HOOK, LINE
he says to mail him jellyfish, a school. he says he'll suck
the salt & remember our beach day when we slathered our tentacles in his girlfriend's high-proof suntan lotion, drinking Coronas & Corona lites, a bucket between us, sword of ice. I brown like butter, he burns like bees. I can't swim but we fade out into the drown-us waves where no one can see me lose the bikini bottoms, curl into him. hermit crabs ditch their shells for newer, prettier ones, is a lesson you think you learn when your mom buys you that first boardwalk pet, but really it's you who believes the new shell more beautiful, you who urges the poor guy out from his emerald green life into this new pink-peachy one. past the waves, the ocean floor is too far for toes to touch, but the water is calm & bright. |
