Like November, I am waiting
I am the hushed silence at night.
The clouds are churning angrily
with tiny flecks of winter snow
waiting for their turn to dive.

Like snowflakes, I am incomplete
I’m drifting through the mist.
An empty, jagged piece of ice
forever searching for its pair.
In need of repair
I find myself standing
shivering and pale
while the river is waving
and it looks just like home.

So like snowflakes, I am angry
I’m preparing to dive.
The ice hits me and I’m
really living.
My veins pumping frantically,
they’re fighting off the cutting chill
fighting off the sight of you
standing at the surface.

I try to offer you a smile
that blurs into a rainbow trout
and gyrates to the bottom
to a sea-bed filled with
colours I could never find
on land.
I hold my breath
because mermaids don’t have lungs
following the flashy tail
of a fish that I just met.

We start a sea-weed band
strumming melodious waves
that you can’t hear
with those land-boy ears.
The piano starts floating
and I am weighed down
from the days when I had legs.
You know that if you reached
your hand into the water, I’d grasp it
but the surface is still
and you’re eating pizza
at a dirty table in the corner.

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