wide open sesame

through rain that left momentary puddles
on the salt water rim-
past glaciers, an impossible blue,
toothmint blue-
 glaciers as blue
as blue can get-
and cutting a thin, long
papercut along the stern
and infinite beauty of the ocean-
as sewing-needle dolphins
came and went- as puffins
bottle necked-
and as I turned to print
and days stretched their limbs-
as terns dove proudly beside our hull
whole days turned to nightlight memories-
as, each night, we did or did not tie
to some transient moorage late enough
,and leave early enough,
that no one heard our tree falling in the woodland,
knew we ever were,
or charged the cap' a moorage fee,
we came,
and as it goes along the ocean,
we went-

through all of that,
with no complaints,
with life on our heels,
life on the seat of our pants,
life in our toes,
I stubbed mine,
and have grown tired
of finding life
in watching cloud strata
dissipate in the wind-
up toys that we knew as children.

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