Do you remember last summer on the coast,
When I tripped and fell fully dressed in the sea?
As if the rising tide with which we were engrossed,
Had surged forth like an unseen shark to swallow me.
We were on the beach watching a playful otter,
In our sweaters and jeans because it was cold.
And we skipped smooth flat rocks across the water,
While in the distance crab and fishing boats trolled.
We complained of the confused northern weather,
And decided climate change must be to blame.
And as you went to pick up an eagle feather,
I slipped on some seaweed and cried out your name.
But before you could stand up and look,
I hurtled forward again and again,
And screamed as I impaled a barnacled hook,
Like some accidental sportsman in pain.
I was already submerged a few feet out,
By the time you saw me gasping for air.
You shook with laughter so hard you could barely shout,
"What the hell are you doing out there?!"
When I finally found my footing and emerged,
Dripping like a devouring monster from the sea,
Out of the clear blue sky a seagull converged,
And to your great delight landed atop of me.
My outrage over your amusement and joy,
Only encouraged more of your snorts of glee.
And as I jumped around to make the bird deploy,
You wet your pants as I slipped right back into the sea.