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!