I believe I tend to complicate
all matters, but when I strain

I remember we are one unified
being swimming between the lie

of stars as tides sweep over the city.
Quiet night– at least no one

seems to mind the oak of
my cologne. I can smell

the earth and the rain all around,
the seaweed everywhere.

The tang of time is yellow,
maybe parched, alongside

herbal tea and
cool desiccation.

I am on
the beach below her, watching clouds,

splintering sky, my eternal life
a big house just waiting to

sell to a surfer. Above, the yellow light
depends on the seasons, the turquoise

narrows the closer it gets to the blue,
coinciding with what looks like a different wave.

(originally published in In Parentheses, 2023)