Some have watched her rising from the ocean for years.
These amniotic visions return at the pull of the moon.
No clam shell boats for her.
After she wades from the waves
she and the shoreline disappear
only to arrive in a Chevy convertible or on a donkey.
She likes desert nights and all the dance moves
of the free roaming wind.
She delights to drive, ride, or fly through starlit streets.
When the moon begins to starve she returns to the sea
vowing everlasting love
for those who still dare to dream of rebirth.