Age and Fish

Eyes drowning in the reactive blue sea
she stared, fish-eyed, canned.
And surrounded by unpolished rock
Lusterless, mundane, without
kindness or personality. The waves
winked and smiled. Less sonic din
and more spoken sound, yet
still it rang as tinnitus in her
little gray ears. All around,
the footsteps, the clamor,
the explosive depth of her
heat. Her humanity, so
natural a state, removed
part-way. Weeds, tulips, trees
The greenery itself;
the melt of melancholy.
Siren's call of its better nature. 
As if nothing happened, it
all happened at once. And
back again, into the sea.