We drove to the beach in a long low convertible with wide fins,
Past flat-roofed houses the colors of shells fading in the sun,
And swam alone on a peninsula of white sand.
It felt real.
Turquoise waves rolled in from the point much like this world,
I swam without tiring, the swells lifting me, I was of the sea,
I knew the water, its currents and tides, its depths and its distances.
You called me Fish.
