On the Back of a Dolphin

I yearn to skim

the turquoise seas

on the back of a dolphin

as the gentle silver ghost

surges in air

to the peach jelly sky.

I become immersed

in the troupe of giant clowns

who giggle and leer sunbeams

as the sun bleeds sanguine

into mirrored aqua dreams.

I touch the soft rubbery skin

of the dolphin’s back

with my thighs,

a rogue reveler in denial

believing I am one of them,

enjoying the inclusion

in the pack as

sneaky undertow

tugs at sleek fins.

I absorb the aqua water,

bathing me,

into my skin

in warm moist embrace.

Babbling in elusive sounds

the dolphins include me

in their watery talks.

I hang on tightly

as the dolphin leaps

over perfect skim milk waves

which replicate and

carry us on.

I am enchanted

by misshapen

juicy plum clouds

showing the way.

We dive deeply

when lightning bolts

divide the sky,

skimming grated chambers

of abandoned wrecks

of hollowed honor.

We surface to see the tide

slinking in to trammeled

grains of gold kissed sand.

I cannot abandon

my azure vision,

gliding forever

in watery diamonds

of diaphanous spray.