Somewhere the memory
of old friends
looks my way

and I'm aware
of nothing.

I know it all.

The split of friend-
ship;
you to land
and I out to sea.
(I swam alone
for years)

Soon enough,
the solid earth
ate you up in
three or four
or five pieces.

(I wasn't there to count.)

But I remained, nowhere,
where the fish
jumped in
to keep me from retreat.

Meanwhile, you grew seeds,
farmed the flowers
into trees,
watering can: your charm.

And as you perfected
talking tall,
I heard the wind rise
from its fall,

made awkward moves,
finger joints creaking
to throw in the towel
and instead

I threw open the sails.

Back to Socia,
where pleasures wait,
for my great
renovation.

I took off my shell,
the bars I hated,
shadows I despised.

And as I arrived,
set foot on rock,
I proudly stated:

"I will not hide!"