Sea Chatter
When the sun goes down
the sea goes black under
its surface mermaids
swim and check out the
dead fishermen.
She tells me golden stories
in the little boat where we
float across the fjord with
oranges and no ores
waiting for the coastal
guard to rescue us.
My father has seen one! –
Sticky orange juice on her
chin, she squints at the sun
half asleep she sings and
yaps about her dreams
which I know are not real.