He sweats in his sleep, slipping and sweet.
A crying bottle of beer dampening the neck of a tablecloth t-shirt, 
tears worm to wet wicker-chair hair.

I close my eyes and let salt-smell slide over me, pretend
the whoosh of each passing car
is another wave.

Press closer to heat, to blood, brush a finger across
stubble-sand, against snores, around 
the shell swirl of an ear.

Return sweat slowly, steadily. Seal skin to skin.
Will the sternum to focus.
Focus.

Take this sea into my lungs,
hold it there. 

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