Salt is the new lava in lamp-ery, that is
not to say lamprey (better suited to pie
and spice world worms).
Sometimes I hold my Himalayan close
longing to lick the luscious pink,
sad cow that I am.
It warms my breast as I breathe in,
say: ocean, ocean, ocean,
I am what I have been made to be
by The Martin Agency, TV,
At twenty I would watch the lava
stoned, a mantra of bubbles.
the rise and fall.
This solid rock reassures,
I, too, am not impermanent,