The minute you leave
I summon the sea,
turn the fan toward
shimmering seashell discs
in the kitchen doorway.
All night long
the abalone curtain clinks
breakers subdue busses,
muffle sirens. Velvety waves
wrap around tight corners
lap though doorways
slap back on themselves
at the edge of my bed.
Sea foam gurgles
through my glial cells,
effervescing in my dreams.