We sink into the water.
It’s the closest thing to making
love in outer space,
which in turn, I understand,
is the closest thing
to one of the ancient gods
chuckling at the divine
and ancient equivalence
of a firefly.
We join the jellyfish
club, and six to eight weeks later,
Aquaman arrives at our doorstep
with our certificate.
We value our privacy,
though I get why it strikes some people
odd to hear me say that.
I’m only telling you this
because we’re such good friends
and there’s an off chance
that you can help me figure out
if we’re the chuckle or the fly.