where are we if not above or below the gazes of the others.

policing the gestures that strive toward unpredictable arrangement

busy drowning to

make waves, decorate their places upon the shore

water that their toes may appreciate 

                                                            upon warms sands

“look at the ones out there

the idiots swimming

in cold dark water”

their hair delightfully engaging the wind without risk

bodies as wholesome objects fattening luxuriously spreading outward

their hunger taking on superfluously, leaning toward getting fucked

browning under the sun

dreaming of designs and change

with uncertain amounts of pain.