mama oceana, you’re teasing me now.
everywhere I go there is salt in the air,
the caressing coolness of a breeze on my skin
– wet from joyful tears –
the urge to shirk the shirt from my shoulders.

zio autunno,
it’s not that my fondness for falling has faded
but I know you can feel the waves in me
(pushing out against the shore
against the sea-shelf of my chest).
you know – I can smell it – that the time for drifting is come
the time for floating is near.

mama oceana, I can’t bear the stillness of waiting
so I’ll be right here, wading
through the deep troughs of air and space and time,
naked and singing out to you;
swimming home.

i want the water
i want the water
i want the water