Deep Pocket Ocean

You fingered quickly
on the window wet,
“Don’t cave in and don’t you dare forget.”
You thought that best,
‘cause you could wipe it all away.

And in your busy brain you often felt
that you were enveloped by the sea.
The trouble seems, to me,
that that’s just what you need;

a chance to fit
the Atlantic deep in your pockets,
where no one can dry you out.

You used to drive a lot,
alone at night,
and head up north,
away from sickening light,
from shallow sky,
to watch the houses all go dark.

But now the city lines are farther out
and you can’t escape
the maddening, speeding sprawl.
You can’t move on
to somewhere a little less severe.

You and I have compromised;
that burn in our throats is our own fault.
But we are not some ruined clocks,
no we move with exacting precision;
never too slow.