The Wisdom of Water

Facing the rhythmic waters of the bay,
the golden grass shimmered
like the wild mane of a lion.
Above us the serene blue summer sky.
We laid underneath a fantastic art piece –
a sculpture of a bow
arched toward a giant arrow piercing the earth,
our bodies magnetized between earth and sky.
Meanwhile the world went by,
buses swishing past,
people parading down the sidewalk,
a helicopter hovered overhead.
Between these two worlds,
the Gods playfully struck
two stones together
where innocence and desire
became the glint in my eyes,
and I was 14 again, and you, 17
and our mouths touching
felt like the blind girl naming
water for the very first time.
Over and over, the kiss declared
its own rhythm
penetrating deeper
than the arrow plunging into the earth.
Over and over, my joy
leapt across the currents
targeting the jewel of your entire body.
When you had to leave,
Water, Water! my heart shouted,
but my mouth could not speak.
Water, Water!
You evaporated like rain into soil
disappearing into the underground tunnel
of the train.
Water, water
the rhythmic waters of the bay
slapped up against the side of the boat
as it ferried me home.
Disoriented, I felt like a compass
that could not point north, south,
east, or west.