When Things Are Equally Spreading

When things are equally spreading,
Love could soaked into your softest cotton shirt
with sea water,
carrying the body through the caramel sweetness.

No more pebbles scratching the wrinkled finger tips,
perhaps they have all turned into bubbles.

What about the leftovers, he said.
Don't worry, I will stay and take care of them.
You don't want to leave with us? He asked while wrapping the dishes with plastic covers.
I do.
Then why don't you.
Because someone has to remain in the epicenter.

In the middle of the ocean, the center would be.
Carries out by the waves, catches the edge of your cotton shirt.