night beach

we walk with pearls under
our eyelids. i want to go until
there is no more land to hold us.
until something lets go. i want to be
balloon born in water, salt, & shadow. 
we talk about meeting the ocean
for the first time. my bird feet.
to be an animal is to crave smallness.
even the whales in their water
know they are shrinking. children earlier today
mistook the churn of the water
for the backs of dolphins. they asked
their parents, "when will they grow legs?"
fish with two legs in the dream time. 
barefoot & kicking at the water. 
all the footprints of the day
amble cross-path. the ghost bodies
repeat the day's march. the spirits 
of sea escape-artists reach for 
their shell fragments in the dark. 
i tell you we should build a house
on the night beach. let the night pull
us apart & smooth down the edges.
together we could squeeze the blood moon 
for orange juice & drink until 
we are nothing but sugar.
i do not want to return to the land. 
i tell the fish to quick, lose their legs.
far away we still see the lights 
of the shoreline hotels. honeycomb
sliding glass doors. towels hung
on railings. eyes, like pearls in their night.
all of us, leaning toward an infinite.
you ask me, "what does the ocean mean to you?"
i resist the cliche urge to say, "god"
& instead, i say, "an answer."