Dear Ocean

How many years now I've heard you miles from shore
the roar of your surf in the traffic of the city the endless
ebb and flow of your relentless encounter with the land.

Did we really come from you? Could it possibly
O sea au contraire have been the other way around
That some grown tired of gravity and density

of stone wood metal everything hard unforgiving
would turn to your music and slip inside never to return
their limbs withdrawn vestigial unrestricted

by avenues roadways and interstate grids
loops numbers exits and entrances on-ramps
verges AAA and exhaust no give them

the water road where throat songs travel
at great depths around the planet no boundaries
no passports no pockets...predators of course

food raw necessity and instinct one and because
born in air surfacing now and then for great
gulps of it as the rest of us stand in wonder