seasoned lovers of popular shapes and feelings

in the cradle of my eyes you rest
weary from constant tropical mirrors.
the time makes us both thin shapes
like the clouds at sunrise,
bareley a sinew connecting
each corner of the ocean.
it will be easier when the sea contracts
and hours can flow again
like serpents or rivers
or tap water from your bathroom, mundane.
i can't remember where all this time came from,
and there's no ending here in the north,
for seasoned lovers of popular shapes and feelings