I am in marine biology class when the professor mentions underwater earthquakes; how they happen at the bottom of a body of water. The ocean swaying with this sudden upheaval. He says tsunamis are often triggered by such movement. All that vibrating.
Miles away from this required class that I’m only taking for credit, you’re waiting like a Christmas present. But I’m Jewish. So maybe you never really were meant for me.
Your heart so far away from mine, it might as well be in the deep end.
You know I’ve never been a strong swimmer. Can I ask for some floaties? Or are we too Titanic to fight the future?
Baby, can you imagine if I still tried? If I dove into the darkest parts to try and reach you? Do you think my body would explode from all this pressure? Do you think I’d ever make it back to the shore?
You say, “It’s too much pressure.” But keep calling me when the tide rolls in and the moon starts rotating. You keep saying my name when no one else is coming. Just you and me, us. On this beach. In this ocean. With our shaking.
No one can call it a disaster if they don’t know. Right?
No one can call us a lost cause if they haven’t seen our outcome. Right?