ere’s that specific type of claustrophobic realizing you’re surrounded by air just pushing in on you.
and ou’re just pushing past it, but it’s tiring you out.

frankie’s daughter was born today.
and i spent the day burning up in bed with a fever
half dreaming about the beach.

and everyone who’s ever been to the beach would know, the first time you’re ever shown a shell
and told, you hear the ocean in this thing you know. You’re in a bit of disbelief till you hold it
up and listen.

is it because they spend their lives with the sea? I imagine them like little viejitos recounting
their lives with her.

the same way we all have our voices we will never forget, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
and now children.