The brown octopus strikes out and twirls
away from me
to settle on the reef
between two blank-faced sea urchins
where it drains itself of color
and burns white, white as the coral on the reef
He stares
gently pulsating creature
at my two big dumb orange snorkeling flippers
I can’t tell exactly what has or hasn’t happened here
was he merely stretching an arm in my direction?
or does he harbor hate
in the eight arms of his discretion
such a delicate situation
So I wave
The New Weather 