A Neptune’s Project

Tell me you feel it too, completely.
The water lifting you off your feet.
A sea – oh ok me – washing you away.

To float is to fly in my schema;
that at least is what I am telling
the patent office in my latest filing.

And once you give in and trust me
enough to be borne by me – and it
won’t take much: just a shove tide,

a ginger wave – then we must turn
to the real, true business. Why do you
keep wishing to live in a drowned power

station made of wool? Your pain won’t
get washed away, just rearranged.