Everything Turns to Water

Drum, possibly dream
              from the froth of Ocean crossing
distills that which pelicans in their wisdom
glide above
                              only to be returned as such
is possible the pursuit seems actually to have
occupied less than the hours
                                                & what else to tell
layered transparencies against the
signage
              one doesn’t ordinarily read but lit up at night
              having traveled this far
                              up from the waves as mist
                                                snagged on telephone poles
or drifting across a parking lot (itself
adrift)
              Not from eyes intent upon
                              nor the blue window light only just lifted
but as the tide
                              a measure
                                                duly noted