to your demands

only the self
       answers the self

or does not
       as the case may be

a second music
       I do not understand

but need to
       need to

so as to sing
       in union with the echoes and the waves

if I am
       to taste that fruit again

bite to the core
       extract its juice

and leave the stone withered on the beach

these are the measures I calculate by
       the music I suspect is the core

as the boatmen
       lazily meander up the pier

but have no interest
       in my needs

content it seems
       to indulge the day

in a fantasy
       of nets and shells

"here", I call aloud,
       "here are my shells!"

but they do not listen
       they listen to that old music

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