Pier Side

I do not dream of San Francisco
swimming bay to barge
with sailors smiling in disbelief.
No, I stand summer grounded with coffee,
chocolate, papers.

Always it was you who wanted to escape
face to sky
shark under mind.

You who pressed on faster further
until no one could reach you
without paddle or motor.
You, pushing distance racing time
like some kind of Einstenian death trick
your mitochondria pulse
pulse with the power of the first sea
woven into each cell.

You who taught guards their stroke
mothers how to set limits
women how to loosen strings.

I watch the waves lift you,
lower you, lift you into ease, isolation.
My feet are dry
I hold your towel, wait
like the splintered bench I have become.