Breath

The ocean's breathof fish and kelp,of iodine and submerged, drowning greenupon the grove's wet mouthof eucalyptus pods,of scaling bark and long, thin leaves,upon the street's lipsof garlic, onions frying, peppers and cut grass,back and forth,the ocean's ghost exhalations,across the wider paved ways,shot out like arrows,those avenuesof fumes,of puffing cars, trucks, buses,of gasping bicyclers too,came slow,then panting.

The ocean's breath,out, along,up from the groundwhere it was kicked by runners and pedestrians too,was spread out,out along the park's dark earthup to the distant, glass-glazed building tops.

The ocean's breath, fast finally,panting over,possessing,marveling at and mauling every single lump of anything.That breath scaling,covering.Its moist whispersin the hair of everything.Its eagernessof submerged drowning greeneverywhere, everywhere.And weare as full of knowing itand feeling itas the other fish arein their deeper wet.