Paleocene

We are the blue of a rhythmic ocean,

Lapping up shores of tiny islands.

Wetting our tastebuds

With mineral gems speckled

Among the soil of warm land.

Consuming all into aqueous;

The layers of epochs geographic.

Every drop holds a map of the earth.

Tastes like dinosaurs and dust -

Crystallizing in our bodies.

As we are of water,

with only the will to consume.

We thirst for more,

As we laze about

like braided trickles on salt flats,

And hallucinate velociraptors in pink visors

With open button-down shirts.

Dressed as pool boys,

They serve platters of plastic cups,

glimmering brightly in the sun.

One hands me an exotic drink -

Black with rainbow sheen.

Finally, the cure to my ailments.

Fossilizing my reptilian brain;

Channels flowing with salt grains.

All that’s left of me

is atmospheric water vapour

And immunity to pain.