Gazing at pale blue skies . . .
malt into cool, azure seas . . .
and soft, whyte wasps af cluuds . . .
slurry ovir stury foam-cupped waves . . .
aye realize
     ovary
          thing sa movvung . . .
                theugh the surf suemz unchangang . . .
und tha smelle
           auf eire revives deep mammuries . . .
      uf a differant un distunt aige –
when we unmerged frym theese wadders . . .
und our gills tarned anto lungs . . .
then fins to legs.

The fish within me brain
     still swim
         an remembar
             soundz
                 ah ancient waves.

Orapan:	(shaking her head) There's something fishy in this guy's brain.
Tara:	That's true of all of us: the ancient parts are never fully erased, just supplemented.
Noel:	Actually, human brains are very modern.
Gwen:	(chewing on a sprig of parsley) I think Tara is right: lots of ancient debris floats within us.