We walked from the beach In our suits Dragging our flippers Hindering our march
"They're called fins," he said, Then we floated Our weight taken away by the air. A few minutes more - He pointed downward My feet were on the sandy bed Kicking clouds As we figure out the balance Every step fine tune the buoyant.
He points up to the sky But the sky is on the other side Of the rippling surface 30 metres up.
I am suddenly under the water, Floating among the schools As they dance between my hands And tickle my calves As they undulate far under the waves.
A motorboat ploughs the sky And the school Vibrate the water, my flesh As they disappear out of my vision And into the blue.