Moving arms like angel wings
create figure eights impossible to grasp.
Whirlpools expire into the sea.
Kicking legs slowly,
head heavy tilted back,
lips above but ears below,
where the music is,
He listens.
His own heartbeat...
steady but heavy,
like a hard rain but without the comfort.
Too cold.
The heat comes from
the life within.
He creates more figure eights,
knowing his heat
could never warm the ocean.