alternations i want to feel your long torso, crowned by a shock smooth slipping under like a fish turning in death, of blond, not so different from my own skin undertones watersurface tuna rolled through the failing turbines, in contrast to my sun-browned hair, once black. i want to smell your sweet scent, drawing the erotic depth mines, gutting the hull, burned black around a gape, memories of a tryst in the sun's dryer, this close heat rising to half-mast, a cock produces sailors in lifeboats, held in the collapse of an old sweatshirt, left behind. i want to breathe your heavy air, the excited air leaning on the crutches of fins, you churn, blowholes coming through the net of your ex-lover's desire, you mount the back of a dolphin, perhaps saving a life, should have steered clear of the coral reefs. and i want to rake my fingers across your face, stain you that whore's hooks gouged holes in my belly, blood searing you with an impression that taints, reddens, corrupts the sea, a cloud of octopus ink spreads, stalks the trails that you have lit ablaze.