Pairasailing

You, neutral tug boat, don’t fool me.

A pirate in the oceans and a brother in the seas. Every night I am pulled to your oil spill hair and lighthouse voice; Transfixed by your slow cresting movements and tumbling plunges around the diner tile like a mop bucket reprise.

Our spirits run in mountain water and turn to cloud before we can sit at the bottom, silly faced school children, screaming philosophy from gapteeth mouths.

We are strange ships, always seeking land.

Our bodies rest, sweaty slips of flesh on couches and carpets, and awake. alone. in the same room. The journeys in our dreams hover in a universal mind that we, water dwellers, can never reach yet are forced to taste lightly on every word at breakfast until we descend into suckle ripe night and pretend we’re just boats pairasailing through life, speaking like oysters to pocket knives.

-for a Scorpio I want to know