Imagine outlawing affection 

for a thing’s own good. Imagine, 

I say, living slow enough to raise 

algae on your skin and loving 

fearlessly—so fearlessly men must 

pass laws against reciprocating.  

He laughs at my weeping 

over the plump miracle of the manatee 

meandering close enough to our boat 

to see each scar, each whiskered  

gulp of air. He cracks open 

another beer and sighs. 

Imagine growing into a creature 

so gentle and pointless 

even alligators spare your hide.