We indulge our passions, unthinking

Of how it feels to others, I am most alive

When I am dead underwater, cocooned

In its gentle caress. No hacking cough

Not even the pain that shoots

Down my leg on land. This poem flows

Like the drops that slide of my back

As I take a turn and swim away.

Maybe my father was right, I was born

On a November morning when the moon

Looked at me in hiding and told me to float.

Float away, stay afloat. And that is where

You will find me, my past draped around me

Naked and weightless staying afloat.