"from a bedroom window, the sea"

"from a bedroom window, the sea"
hopelessly by jake kilroy.

from a bedroom window,
in a city that hums in the winter
and whistles in the summer,
i can see the harbor,
through the trees,
over the hills,
beyond the power lines.
and what waits there?
boats and ships and yachts!

all men in white aching
to free themselves from being men.
women in dresses,
boundless in energy,
remarkable in beauty,
waiting in vain
to escape womanhood.

of thrills, of waves,
of the nurturing calm of the sea,
a playground for those without borders,
for those without ties,
for those that sail,
like kites and balloons,
some cutting, some floating,
but always as lost as much as found;
a profound weightless, guiltless, endless idea,
as the five senses become schools of fish,
too plentiful for understanding;
with only enough thought
to know that we would like to stay
until our muscles come full circle,
until our bones feel leaky,
until we are nothing but water,
working just enough to be a mirror for the sun,
sleeping heavily for new kids to swim,
watching the world go on and on for eons,
always with the depth to change.

i watch from a bedroom window.