When our knees knock together
I know.
These bruises are proof,
The natural manifestation
Of what we share.
Every arm graze, shoulder touch,
A sign.
He knows.
I know.
Eventually these inadvertent touches
Will evolve,
From cellular soup,
Into walking talking fish.
Who will leave the sea
Ready for something new.
Not knowing what comes next.
A new limb, an extra fin, to undress you
From your scales.
To pour water on your gills
As you adjust to the air.
It will happen slow,
But when it does
We will know.
b.
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