They like water.

They like the closeness.

They like that the molecules are so small;

so infinitesimal

that it squeezes together so tightly

it becomes what it is

Fluid. Water.

Body of Water.

 

They’re like the water

They are.

And I don’t mind, I can swim

 

They just really like that water.

 

And every time they dip their toes in

it has to be an event.

All the molecules in all the world stop

for a second

and then the whole mass of the whole

goddam Ocean

comes to swarm around and consume them

like they belong.

 

They love the water.

 

And yes,

there is sand

Yes,

there are fish

But more than anything, there is water.

And they don’t give about anything but  

 

I am a Body.

They don’t like that.

And everytime I come near them,

They think they need to change me.

They throw me in, and let the salt water wash me out.

I can feel it burning my nose

filling my chest

and I’m gasping and trying to get out

But you can’t reason with water

“This is living”

They said.

“You have to change”

They say.

 

I don’t know how  many years

I let them wash me out.

I don’t know how long it was before I realized

I’ll never be them.

 

I need to swim.

Every day. Every damn day.

 

‘Cause if I stop swimming, I don’t know what will happen.

I won’t float, I can tell you that.

 

You know,

they don’t even understand.

It only takes a teaspoon.