I was wild. On the sea, alone, by golden boat with high walls to peek past so your eyebrows are salted. Just enough to burn when the sweat wells up in the corners of your ocean eyes. There was a voice. There was a warning. A gold-skinned shark, swirled in orange-bronze that spoke back to the sun in rebellious little winks, screaming that god is a torpedo. The boat shook, and I splashed to the black-blue in hopeful atonement. I grasped the pine, and the pine grasped back hugging me to the floor to face the ether. I’m alone again, by golden boat, with the voice in my head that sometimes isn’t mine.