i feel you dream of alligators in the cave
complaining when you wake of the pitch
the risk of sleeping in such dark for days
the dog is trimmed smaller
when i bite my hand it bleeds watercolor 
because i’ve become metaphor,
my brain thinks nothing for thousands of laps
it runs, swims, bikes, and shoots
all at once, arrives at the same place,
reunites a palm against your softer warmer
the olympics were here once
fingernail frogs were a different delight

it’s like a broken fin, the white shred acute
floating on a lapped wave
strolling by a piece of violence
this summer morning
water everywhere, see?
i even bring it here to the landlock
to hold me
even the poem does
this fake marathon, see?
i’ll land you at the inlet
the mouth
the sun is pink for you
anything for you