you and your definition of grace

depress me, repress me, how can I be

anything you would want, with my

cold, crass humor and indefinite moods?

your words and you, thick as thieves,

conspiring amongst the pages and things

while I burrow, chilled, into

the hard wet sand at the lakeside--

the little crabs, their round shells and

sharp toes, they welcome me--

and you climb into the ink,

black on white, with ideals 

as firm as the parchment they rest on:

I wonder if you are soluble.

I curl into my shallow nest

up against the pebbles and glass,

unafraid for the moment, but

knowing I will disappoint you later

when I emerge, damp, winded, and

covered in grit for your judgment.