My home is not much more than an aphrodisiac now. What shaped me is a discarded piece of inedible food laying on a porcelain plate next to a dead fish, both staring at the moon in ignorance and listening to two lovers laugh and hundreds of waves crash in succession, as if they are trying to drown the shore and take it back. Take all of us back to where we belong, or where we think we belong. The sea covered mountains and made them look like little islands, people think it’s romantic. So the waves are fighting back and lovers laughing. One lover feels a disturbance in her stomach and runs to the edge of the balcony to throw up into the sea. The waves take it back and they laugh back into her face, a splash of sea foam to remind her of eternal love she hopes for.
I observe from the floor, degraded into a heel of her shoe. Hoping to get wet by some of that sea foam, for old times sake. I may look like a moon to a child’s eye, but I can’t change the tide. I go where she goes and she always avoids the sea. I’m expensive and taken good care of. I dance and descend down the stairs in elegance. Dancing by the sea I came from.