At the wharf I lean back against the damp stone, sip my drink and yield to the slippery salamander of sea. The moon is a glistening slice of melon, her whisper carries on the wind “moon child I love you too”. Sinking deeper into my subconscious I watch a velvet sea bird swoop my reflection from silver waves, hear the distant sighs of lovers lost in a monsoon. Old images flicker across my frontal lobe as I liberate sip by sip. That man with the golden veins doesn’t interest me anymore. Perhaps later when my pearl skinned body breaks the surface I’ll bring him back again.
art by Steve Hanks