The Life Aquatic

He’s burning you
and freezing you
simultaneously,
all with his eyes,
and yet you feel nothing.
Nothing but your feet
becoming ensconced in cotton clouds.
Your heart and your stomach
clenching in unison, like a set of fists,
every time his spider web lashes
swat his infant smooth cheeks.
His eyes are so clear,
seeing into the very core of you.
But they’re one-sided glass windows
for you can see nothing beyond them.
They’re the kind of color you
try to put a name to, but,
try as you might, when you’re alone
in bed that night,
you cannot recall the exact
blend of colors.
You may as well be
a little kid, trying to
capture air in a jar
to give to your mother,
just to show how
grown up you are.