I’m shading my eyes with my right hand.
I step to the water’s edge.
What’s wrong with me.

The you I 
tableau-sponged I’m now waving to with my other hand.

After all, the water spackled remotely, 
burst. Mangrove gripped in saliva. Anything 
to stay pure, immersed. Swimming 
synchronized with the bellicose you. I’m slinking back. 
I’ll leave you out.