What the waters wants is hurricanes, and sailboats to ride on its back. What the water wants is sun kiss, and land to run into and back. I have a fish stone burning my elbow reminding me to know that I'm glad that I have a bottle filled with my own teeth. They fell out like a tear in the bag. And I have a sister somwhere in Detroit. She has black hair and small hands. And I have a kettle drum. I'll hit the earth with you. And I will crochet you a hat. And I have a red kite; I'll put you right in it. I'll show you the sky.