lilly ann and the fish parade Tides pull and push inhaling into the lungs of the beach into the porous clicking avioli and the unsettling and resettling of sand Standing she, buoyant and bobbing, breathing, feeling arms and legs in the light resistance of liquid antigravity. Underneath the mirror surface, the gentle lapping border between air and the transparent marriage of water. Hydrogen and oxygen embracing to the horizon, she feels them invisible behind reflections, kissing toes brushing delicate against thighs and knees. Inaudible parade they gather, looking upward past the solid fluttering hands to the ripple distorted shoulders and face, the grasping eye and the smear of lips. Lips that would join in the salt air of coastal suburbs, lips that would join among seaweed fields and jelly fish clouds, lips that are the gateway to lungs and gills, that will never in this world, filter each other. -- by s. motley written for this painting by joe sorren