Further Out, ' Too Long

Over night the boundaries moved the buoys it was not so much as is the struggle struggle just too struggle in-between. The currant never slows it's ceaseless pace as it marches from one mouth and out the other. When their is never time to rest, before. Floating on my back to catch my breath, is life and death. She is looking out and I am looking up. Their is this one place they know about. And it is there, 'I stand up bucking the tide. The struggle to remember I forget is more than even the burning yellow sun. and when, 'I finally reach the shore tired but never out of breath moving backwards against the running water always bumping too is when laying down next to the closest foot upon the sand with toes that move as grass and waves talk indiscriminately a little loudly about which one can he touch off of next, that led me off and further out, ' too long from shore.