Slipping onto the jetty at midnight where our feet
slip hard on the rocks and kelp just under water
you say 'I think those people are watching us.'
I'm thinking carnal thoughts—sea water you know,
like the taste between your thighs. It's warm like
a sex flush as we walk a little deeper, trying
to reach just that point beyond which it will no
longer be safe to go, where the tide takes over.
Tomorrow morning I might wake you
with coffee or by nuzzling your tenderest
parts while I listen to you trying to snore me away
but right now it's just past soft midnight
and with wet feet we're headed slightly NE
for that slight crack in the sky over Nahant,
the big and dark-blue night where rising stars
might meet fallen angels: your soul and mine.
You. Yeah you. The one watching from the near shore.
I bet from where you stand with your leashed animal,
your strained eyes, you'd swear we were walking on water.