NUDE DESCENDING SURF

anatolian coast, watermelon
seeds slurped off a plate,
   handed us by a kid the age of sandcastles

            — “you swine!”

we dance
          to tarkan, shop for privacy
     across islands, dream
       through windows. i snag
   a rock between finger
                       and thumb.

          “when pigs can swim!”
     you laugh —

  “when pigs can fly?”
we swap hands. you sink
                beneath the surface.

                              as depth,
i flounder to judge
     your cerulean eyes.