Display of Power from the Bottom of an Ocean

I want to take a bus to the coast

vodka tonic portable bottle in hand

take my clothes off, go swimming

and float, giving my all to ecology.

It would be a night bus, one A.M.

packed with Mexicans who cook Italian

going home to crying babies and tired wives

they don’t envy me and my energetic one.

She’s only tired when I’m around

we don’t even have our child, yet.

If we did it would be far away

naked, awake, and on display.

***

Nothing can see me but the sun

cracking my skin open after days of floating

on my back.

As the sun pries my pores, the seagulls march

with hungry eyes. The water

creeps into my wounds.

I start to sink.

Face down now my eyes are just new funnels

for death through salt water to creep

the marlins love the taste.

I took the bus 10 days ago, at one AM.

Elevators take me down now,

the crabs play drums.

I can hear

            on my descent.

No one to see me now

I’ve been consumed without any regard

to my asteroids I’ve embedded in hearts

forests I’ve planted in minds.

If only she wasn’t busy being seen

she could’ve watered down with me

our eyes, only each other’s, burning

blue and green.

-Grant Durando 7/31/12