Cousteau on the Beach

I have just returned
From an underwater snow park
Where a little girl
Is ruling with generosity
While Winter vacations on the shore

The snowmen have chased away all the fish
But in spite of that, it is a delightful little city

I took my friend Mariella there
But she prefers chlorinated water
Over the salty sea
So we weren't there but a few days
When she packed up her little dog Stanley
And rose up to the surface

I'm used to people leaving me

Water, like many a thing
Is fluid

And so people float
And float back

I choose to go with the flow
As they say

It is the easiest way to be

I sit on this beach
As I have sat on many a beach
Eager to run back into the water
And explore

My mother would make me take an umbrella
Whenever I would go swimming
So that I wouldn't get my head wet
And catch cold

She was a very thoughtful woman
If not altogether right in the brain

I washed up on this beach eight days ago
And since then I have spent the time
Drying off and eating sand hamwiches

A little cabin was built for me
By a little girl
Who says she knows my Mariella
And knows how I must miss her

We would sit in the cabin
In front of a roaring seaweed fire
And tell stories about our travels

She would tell me about the supermarket
And the post office
And all the other places
She dreams of going one day
Without her parents making her hold their hand so tight

And I told her about a cafe
In the belly of a whale
Run by a little boy
With a very big nose

The little girl had to go back to school just yesterday
And so I have thought about
Going back into the blue, blue water

It is home, you know

But home
Can get lonely
From time to time

I think of all that I have seen
And I do wish, I do
That I had seen it all
With someone

I tell so many stories
That they begin to grow and grow details
That were not there before

They become lies

And there is no one there to correct me
To keep me in the truth

And so I can tell that my stories
Are not what they once were

They are overdecorated
They are silly
They are sad

And yet, they are my life

And so my life becomes the same

Still, I have not given up hope
That one day I will swim into someone
Who will remove my helmet
And put an umbrella over my head
To keep me from being cold

Perhaps I will swim into Mariella again

Either way, I will not stop exploring
Experiencing my stories

And until someone witnesses them with me
I will simply tuck them away somewhere

Somewhere they will be safe
Until they are ready to share