Oceans Poem by anais vionet

My boyfriend (Peter) and I went down to New Haven Harbor today.

Let's face it, we're surrounded by oceans,
and most of them are downright inhospitable.

I live near the ocean, (pointing) it's right over there.
I love the ocean, tripping over whenever I've time to spare.

The way I'm fawning over it, you'd think I know it well.
But I really only love its edges and undulating swells.

It's like a book that I've judged by its cover,
a beautiful stranger taken as a lover,
or a pie when I've only tasted the crust.
I love something, I suppose, I've barely even touched.

Peter says that black, inky 'outer-space' is a low-viscosity liquid - another, even vaster ocean that's more dangerous and rarely visited.

The air that we breathe is an ocean - our own, vast, atmosphere - in it swim creatures too small to see, but to the naked eye it looks clear. It flows, eddies and swells - birds swoop in it so you can tell.

Of course, the ocean has issues - it's hardly news - corrosion, erosion, sharks and drowning - and the way the ocean lets the moon and air push it around.

What I love most is its motion, and how it reflects the sun and the moon.

Did I mention that hanging out by the ocean makes for a pleasant afternoon?