You, today.

I thought of you today
(for michael, a dear friend)

You and glowing things,
you, swimming away
from a boat, away from
the soft pulp of a letter
torn in water. “hollering
from inside a deep well.”
As clouds hiccup above
the back of your head,
you swim with strong
arms touching right ear
and left, and someone is
still carving your name
on the oldest tree on the
galapagos.

DRAFT-DRAFT-DRAFT