at the tideline the surfacing sun
overwhelms the horizon
like an ingrown hair and a fish
-erwoman i bothered proposes
that the mackerel here thrive because
when they see the scenery they’re compelled
to make love
it reminds me
of a couple i’ve recently been spending
time with
who met at the memorial of a friend
in 86
a generation removed
my thumb taps on the chests of dads
to replace my own and
assigned-at-birth flesh shapes
that make the gulls above scream
with laughter over the indelicacy
of human orogeny
how one-dimensional
the race for intervention of an all-out
stranger must seem from up there—
my handheld dreamland
the realistic sea beneath us
winking
