Again

Muscles are overwhelmed,
go slack.

This is familiar.

Over the side,
legs kick
the void beneath
the swell.

Shores collapse,
and their fires
with them.

The shadows of
conifers
remain unchanged
where they were left:

The notes
you wrote to yourself

so you would not forget.

The wind shakes
sand from
its hackles,

empties itself
of shore-light

and lumbers
up
through the jungle
to meet you,
again.

You are ridiculous,
again.