loose threads

Poaching lines from my old drafts to make a weird poem; this was kind of fun! How many different drafts do you think are represented here?

I watch pelicans fly along the shore
watch as they periodically dive straight down into the water
I think to them the water tastes like broth,
comforting and familiar on their tongues

I smell his skin,
the halting blend of ocean air, sweat, weed, and rum

Under the stars and the moon, 
beside the abyss of the Pacific, 
he is hauntingly vague and flawless

I smell the ocean, 
thick with salt and brine, 
and all at once I feel like a boulder tumbling down a hill

This is the story of how I was born

Everyone else has gone home
gone to the beds of their lovers
to other bars and other pursuits
but two stay behind
as entranced by the music
as they are by each other

I could taste the edge of danger on the tip of my tongue
I could taste his indifference, too

The moonlight spilling in through the bedroom window hugs her profile
I watch silently as her chest rises and falls
In the distance, somewhere along the horizon,
lightning flares up, bouncing around inside a bank of clouds
 and as I wait for the thunder, 
I realise that it has been rolling quietly through the night, 
unnoticed and oddly comforting. 

My eyes trace the curve of her face down to her neck, 
over all of her until I am staring at the floor
and the words I need to say echo around in my brain
 sounding too proper, too cold, too necessary

-rjm