occasionally i feel the poetic impulse...
wandering into the calm break of the ocean
riding the swell, bobbing up and down
like an albatross...
suddenly the tide sucks both legs
out from under me, dragging
my body into the giant, frothy mouth
i see approaching.
it gobbles me up, pulling legs back
spitting my body forward
twisting both arms around like
a pinwheel in the gale-force wind
of bubbling, salty sea.
i hear whispers and whistles, the psst-psst!
of all-too shameless men,
i have bruises from rio's streets.
i feel wet and sticky from
impulsive romances, my eyes, nose,
ears, mouth full of sound and silence-
this language seems to mock me every day...
and did you know, in the southern hemisphere,
the toilets flush backwards?
provided it's one of the fancy, flushing models, that is...