The Mediterranean in your right eye; I hoped I was in your left

Young Man #1:

We swam out there
maybe too far out there
I swallowed more of the
sea
than I had planned.
Your skin drank in maybe
a little too much sunlight.

But all was ok.
The salt in my belly and
the burns across your back
didn't matter so much when
we found the island.
It was just big enough for
us
both to sit on;
it rose from the waves
like our knees had
sitting back on the shore

We crawled up and, panting, spotted
several black sea urchins
stuck along the rocky rim.
You were close to me -- I couldn't tell
if that was your intention or the island's.
You looked at me with your
explorer's grin
"Do you think we can bring them back with us?"

Without really hearing, I nodded.
I was too busy trying
to stare into both your eyes at once,
but you were too close to me
and I never could quite
get it right.
I chose your right eye and saw
all of the sea; it was beautiful.
I wanted so badly to be in your eyes that
I was too afraid to look in the other
in case I wasn't.


Old Man #1: (In a wooden chair turned peculiarly to face the wall instead of the obvious panoramic view behind him)

I don't want to face the sea,
it isn't beautiful.
The sea is a place where we all
dump our memories and bodies.
We have filled it up
and it isn't beautiful.