On this curling beach, I sit in the shadow
of a misshapen cliff, its jutting teeth
spearing the fish in the sky. On the undulating
sand, I sit, watching the clouds rolling
in the waves before me.
On a rock like a glass eye some way in
the ocean, you sing to me like a siren,
but you face the blue horizon that fades
and mingles with the sky until the two are
one. The clouds nibble
at your fishing line and you reel them in
pensively. I'm telling the story with a stick
in the sand. Still singing, you approach me,
closer each time I blink, shimmering like
a salmon. You sing:
Quand je te vois avec des yeux de poisson
tu deviens belle, belle, et je t'aime à nouveau-
et quand nous nous embrassons,
je voudrais avaler ta peau.
