You laughed when I told you I had never smelled the ocean.
You’re your eyes and dialect tangled together sparkling.
As an image of the gentle wind gladly carrying the weight of your burden,
Rested itself quietly within my thoughts.
On the curve of a broad shoulder.
I want to taste the salt from its waters-just once.
Just once on the tip of my cool gel-like tongue.
Like a toddler chewing on a ladybug-unintentional,
A process only of growth and exploration.
I dream of playing telephone with a cotton candy colored sea shell.
Pressing it next to my tiny ear,
Softly kissing the right lobe.
As the water whispers to me its secrets,
In a language I cannot comprehend,
But only pretend to understand.
A vision of the livid waves as they splash,
Against my mid-west, tanned calves.
And then fall,
Like opulent tears down my chest,
A tiny ant- like trail,
Forming in perfect succession.
Communications through two separate bodies,
Create a uniformed balance.
Carry me away from this mundane maze of fields.
Away from small minded peoples.
Wearing John Deere Green.
If, for only a moment.
I laugh, realizing I would be out of my element.
Like you, the ocean would only reject me.
Spitting at my presence.
As I turn to the farm houses, tractors, and open minded people.
I listen to the song of the wind chime,
Beg me to stay.
In a language you could never comprehend,
Or pretend to understand.
No longer wearing the weight of your burden,
smelling the ocean.