I’d like to go back to where
the psychic ancient dolphin lovers
frolic, fuck, and grind in the azure water,
gnawing their sharp little teeth
on each other,
shredding the salt water with sunlight
in passionate, carnal wails
in the midst of longingly deep thrashing
ocean.
I’d like to go back, but
I can’t.
That’s just some far off, far out
cosmic memory now,
here to surface and die in my genome
like that aborted baby girl my girlfriend
and I let die years ago,
here only to be a feeling.
Blue eyes drifting in a car
on a sunny New Mexico day,
some afternoon never again,
just continuing on in the Universe.
Here only to be a feeling.
novamartinpoetry.com 