Seadragon smoke

A journey feels shorter

on the way back,

which is why

a break up

may only take seconds

after many years.

*

How befuddling it is

to know enough

that you are not enough

to be enough

for enough people,

or maybe just one,

which includes yourself

on days when

laundry lines

look like ghosts

waving hello

or

when there

is a car waiting,

a party to entertain,

drinks to drink,

eats to eat,

people to people

and you are stuck in

a dress that eats

and drinks

and peoples you,

a dress that is reserved

for a fairy tale

but that flutters like

its flying into the

abyss.

*

The leafy seadragon roars

bubbles into shaggy seaweed

that masks the floating tail

in a hide-and-seek

game that no animal

knew it was playing

but all were involved

and incorporated,

even me,

a person blending in with

those around,

a person watching the colours

diffuse in front of me,

listening to children gape about how bright

the leafy seadragon is,

how beautiful,

and seeing only the cleaning fish

with no name or plaque

or geographic zone mentioned,

chewing on the embers of a

smokeless green sea that moves

and swims and will dissolve,

eventually.