i lay. above ground. like i’m saving myself. i’m not humble. i’m a seattle boy. boy broken open. boy who breaks open for other boys. in seattle, i fracture. i speak city. i kiss rain. i seattle. i above ground. next to a blanket of water. i jump in. like i’m swimming myself. i sink. i’m not a needle. or a rhododendron. i overcast the darkness. i blue. in seattle, i slip inside myself. like a disease. like i’m saving myself. i drown. i see my family ashore. they wave. i’m nothing but head. sink. i’m nothing but bubbles. drown. i’m salt against salt against wet flesh. i lose focus. i sweet talk myself. i pray a wetness. like i’m saving myself. in seattle, there’s space. i call it father. can you hear me? i can’t. i’m drowning, remember. i left. in seattle, i leave everything. like i’m saving myself. my family ashore. they run in. splash. i speak oxygen. i snatch oxygen. seattle is rain. i coddle seattle on my tongue. and lungs. i’m not humble to live. but i do. because.