Learning not to swim

I'm all at sea but that's ok
it's not that I am not at home
it's good to swim then turn and float
between the water and the air
and feel the surface like a skin.

If I should dream of hot, dry land
it's not that I would wish to walk
or run or dance but only
lap against the shore and feel
it's marvellous, alien permanence.

keep on swinging
from hope to hope
it's a circus
but hey,
you're still flying

conspiracy theory
the surveillance camera
turns a blind eye

coming in to land
the plane is
perfect
but everything
below has crashed

with both hands
the toddler holds up
an Elvis umbrella

strange rooms
and forking paths
in my dreams
I deliberately
lose myself

playing cards
on the train
she takes his hand