at the edge of the ocean, just the edges
and no more deeper,
we swam our skins out to sunburn our souls..
at the edge of the ocean, just the sides
and no more deeper,
we touch the softsand bed with our bruisedup toes..

from four in the afternoon, i untie-d my white shirt,
holding out a piece of my heart to a boy with a funky face,
not even she knew about..
at five i tasted the salty sea – almost forgot what it tasted like -
and it tasted like salty lassi when i’m feeling free..
we swamwalked to the other side, talking of
pagans and eagles and for some, it was life.
we looked and glanced -eyes at a trance;
was it full of hate? or wonder?
was it just a sentimental slumber of a chance where
once you leave on the slimpy saturday, i shall wish
i knew you more

and more than the days before…
more than our eyes can fall..

at the edge of the ocean, just the insides
but not deep enough, not deep enough
to hear you breathe—-