Dolphin

we like to kiss

them on vacation

flapping beneath

our life vests as we

inch toward their soft

grey beaks

which seem to funnel

us featherlessly

into blueness

suspended by sky-sea

as it churns

turning slushily

to white then orange

then pink

like sherbet

like so many

sunbursts on the tongue

of a mouth that can only

taste while a second

mouth breathes