Wave To The Ocean, Wave To The Sea

We were discussing clarity within the hall of mirrors
The one next to the museum of water
The the museum that keeps a little collection of tsunamis
Hidden in the basement
Covered in droplets

    The antithesis of dust

A burned out car waits outside
 or rather, it doesn't
Strange
But not hurting anyone
As if expressing something profound about something small
Something so small we hadn't thought about thinking about it yet
And looking at the rust you get a feel for all those who traveled in it
Offered lifts
With plans for their destination
Places worth more than their distance

   The clouds close by

My companion opens her infant hand
Something is melting in its palm
An ice cube?
  I ask
A diamond
  She answers

Secondhand Smoke

Young Ophelia

Hamlet’s old flame

Flameless

Out in the water

Amidst the reeds, amidst the rushes

Smoke in the distance

Wood

Or whatever that is burning

Leaving wood

As a ghost does a man