There will be no miracles here.

I dreamt that I was more than a mile in the ocean in the gulf. floating right over the oil spill full of oxygen suspended like a god. the blackness and the cloud of the sterile smelling oil. in the cloud I could see the face of my brother. like a thunderstorm from a plane window. eyes closed. sound of boiling water.

time goes too fast come home

my eye doctor could see the storm a few hundred miles out. she said to go home put a few drops in each eye and sleep with the lights off. when I woke up the trees in mexico were almost gone. women were looking out their windows, fingers in beads and fabric. entwined in their children's hair. by mid day i called the doctor and she said i might notice some permanent damage and i should go out and buy some canned food and bottled water. i taped the emergency phone numbers to the inside of my cabinets. more drops. when i called the eye doctor the bathroom was full and green, it looked like swimming. like lake michigan in july. fresh. she asked me as straight faced as she could: how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

somewhere across the country he sits in a doctors office and asks if the grumblings he has been feeling is normal. the doctor takes his blood pressure. its through the roof. he opens his mouth and ash pours out in small organized piles. it's nothing personal the doctor says. its not personal when bombs explode or when a gunman takes a hostage. he looks into his nostrils and sees the inferno. he will blow at any moment, like mount st. helens poured over all those people in the 90s. shoulder pads and knobby sweaters. are you on any medications? do you smoke on occasion? how about drugs and alcohol? no. no. no. his internal temperature is boiling his intestines and the lining of his stomach. he leaks black fluid. the corners of his mouth turn down as is his life is just this moment. his purpose fulfilled.

I decided filling the buildings with water would be the best option over wind damage to the windows.

he walked into the ocean steaming, blaming himself.

i made landfall at midnight.

i said:

Forgive me that. One time it wasn't fast.
A myth goes that when the years come
then you will, too. Me, I'll still be home.