We cleanse ourselves at Whitewater Bay from everything bad that has found our lives;
Together we let go.
And if the trees are temple dancers, we are the noise that excites them
If the clouds are ghosts, we are the souls that entice them
And on the billowed shore we sit, Indian style
The sun, so saccharine
You are more beautiful than it all and it’s true—
I stare at you and I meet your eyes, and I can’t help but see you.
Do you?
Do you see me too?