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Last night I dreamed of
the perfect house, set cozy
under palms stretching out
to the sea from the land,
by by the big, big blue but
                     the ocean,
                                    the ocean kept eating
the house
each devouring spray
washing over its being. And I
could not settle. I wanted to live
there, in the house, by the ocean,
in the sun. I wanted to live
               without drowning.
                                    But I felt the sliding
screaming slipping gasping despair,
the deep, deep wanting
and the knowing of not having.
I stayed in this washing despair,
letting the ocean eat the house while I screamed.
And when I awoke
I did not know if
I was myself
or the house
or the ocean.

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