Thoughts: On Nature of You

At dusk I wait for you, have waited like the whisper of flies that are lost on land and I am clutching the rails. The wind is stronger than I, but my feet, scarily, are becoming fixed against the cold, deep stars. They are drinking and speaking Portuguese below and it's beautiful heard on water, but in a different way, kind of like a tale told over and over again in an ancient language, or tonight where our silence tells well of the living. I wait for you, and laugh at the thought of Parmenides on the sea.