somewhere my ears drown graciously

my headphones are made of salt water 
& are full of bivalves--
those types of calms that talk like beaks.
a perpetual chirping.
the ocean covering its ears.
the headphones dripping.
kelp in between fingers & the silhouette
of a mermaid perched
on the ledge of my out ear
like a promontory. she's probably
brushing her hair. she's probably 
listening to a CD inside her head.
i snap disks in half & drop them
into the water--
watch the light rainbow 
in all directions-- fragments of each song 
muttering in the water--
becoming fish. i close my eyes 
as we all do when we think of 
view finders-- when we look out a window
& think next next next
show me something else.
all my friends have gone wonderful places
& have brought back clams.
i tilt my head till a tiny mollusk comes out my ear.
i let the snail crawl on the walls of
my room & he writes alone alone
alone & i can never tell if he's talking
to himself or me. maybe the message
is for both of us. 
underwater there are no people 
besides divers & they want nothing
to do with a boy with his headphones on
conjuring an ocean.
coral is alive & asking if i would 
be willing to be a rock for them
to grow on. i ask how long that takes
& they laugh & start plating their polyps,
pink & white & dull green.
i want to show my friends.
yes i have something wonderful 
growing on my skin. the reef has snakes.
the reef has sleeping mermaids.
the reef has clams with pearls just
made of sugar. i take a handful 
& sweeten a tea i'll drink in the future.
all this time i'm not actually
underwater. i'm just walking down 
7th avenue with my eyes closed 
& the ocean thrashing inside me.
a car horn turns into a riptide. a mermaid 
is a street light. i am a boy 
who holds his breath-- who crosses street
after street until they become 
a vivid blue. i open my mouth
& the bubbles come out like
apologies. i'm always leaving my body.
i'm always asking what the foliage 
can do for me. i'm asking the stones
how they do it. i'm crouching down
to the asphalt & kissing hot rock-- i'm saying
teach me how to grow traffic like coral.
i'm spilling the ocean from my listening.
not just one ocean but every single one--
all the water combined all safe inside my ears 
where the mermaids are wearing dresses
made of trash bags & singing static.
i open my mouth again 
& out comes an eel-- long & green.
it's on it's way to bryant park.
i'm proud it for deciding to follow
its dreams of living in the city.