In a shimmering sea lies creation,

a wrecked city, a lost at sea population.

Provisionally, some strangers are made king,

so long as the shore-wind that follows does sing.

Now I can daydream considerably longer,

as I become the tide, I arrive stronger.

In a lost world, without soil or land,

many sandcastles are formed without their sand.

Then I see an overhead sign in neon magenta,

The Last Salty Sea-dogs Drop-in Centre.

A merman’s place but as man-made as a moat,

now is the time if on dry ground I shall float.

And to scribble from the teeth of a shark,

keep your mouth shut and leave before dark!