I want to watch our ripples
converge,
our rough edges
playing leapfrog in the moonlight.
When we are together,
the very idea
of aquariums seems cruel
and absurd,
the very idea of a world,
limiting.
Do I sound soulful and noble
as I speak your name?
I am astonished
as your pronunciation of mine
divides it
like a sushi roll.
Some ancient soul
watches us
then returns to her own time
to invent woven cloth.
The weird little frog
in the cartoon
says, “This is destiny.”
