Pisces

elsewhere the hours warp and become invisible to me
and now is then is sometime is later earlier slip slided around
to offset my minute
and 8 o'clock in the Alps is indeed 12 o'clock here in my bed
but more so, here I sit writing while people wake
while tea boils breakfast burns bodies slide and dance
and move and breathe and cry and laugh and sigh and sometimes die.
Nothing so physical separates us--me and them
and us you we--as the clocks fettered and
embedded in our toes (now tired now lively now tapping
and wanting a squelch in the May mud, warm and soft).

I live in a sequined fish tank disco-balled bright
glass water rocks mirrory and confining;
here I am 16 times and here are you by my side
(behind layers of plexiglass tissue paper tent walls)
and out just past my front porch--
a welcome mat in Atlantean runes friendly in the rippling landscape
and windchimes gargling in watery winds
prayer flags sodden and dolorously expressive--
wandering the weedy kelp meadows and heatwaved rock deserts
swim other more colorful fish;
brighter fish; less obstinate fish; more beautiful fish;
fish with singing lungs; fish with money and talent;
fish with doors, some windows, some with whole
houses in tow, their luggage balanced poppies on their heads.