we sit
heavey in the fog
as laden tankers in morning
estuaries
watching
breaths mingle
make love
with all the infinite
atmospheres
so temporarily
textured

and the scene
has me thinkin
if my breath can be
the air and its moisture
and the fog can be hers
then John was right and
"i am she
and she is we
and we are all together"
tankers and estuaries
and breaths
and lovers
and dancing barefoot
toes mingling amongst
mud and themselves
and breaths