I thought about you while I was in the pool,
Early September heat stiff above the water,
As present as winter when the ice shimmies
In the pool cover, cracking green, eating leaves.
Your hands reached for me as I swam, always
Out of reach, the grasshopper floating in a spiral
In the deep end, kept away by the waves
I couldn’t help making with each stroke.
In the secret place of naming, where the water
Hid for its own sake, there were creatures
Who understood it and lived with it, as we
Hopelessly try to do with our breasts and breath.
I floated under empty clouds and thought of you
And the dry land between us sinking into sighs.
–Shaun Perkins
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 
Damn, Michael, that line needs to be in my poem.
empty clouds never know the brute pleasure of release