The woman asleep in my dreams has scaly-elbows and webbed-feet because she evolves from saltwater, dissolves at dawn during my early piss. Sleep-walking is incessant lifting-off and her eyelashes are soft. They string her tears, scream the meaningless things, whisper the meaningful. Years pass, the tears collect in a little glass that sometimes lifts to my mouth, sometimes pours out & into a bowl below the sink
Lined with shells
Listen to their stories of same-but-different seas.
They stay up all night telling these stories in saltwater, but it’s hard to listen when I came in to take a piss.