To see the sun filter though the waves up above is a sight I wish to see.
To see the upward reality broken by pulls of a moon far away from me.
I wish to inquire in the aquatic desire of a mermaid deep below.
And perhaps feel the water running softly and mellow through fingertips that wouldn't wrinkle and lungs that needn't breathe in the same capacity as I do here.
I wonder what a fin would feel like swishing where my toes end.
I imagine houses being coral reefs with shelves and seaweed.
I imagine that at a pure night the stars could twinkle through the surface of the water.
I want to breathe water and blink in salt. And swim in a storm with the fish all about.
I want to live somewhere else far away from all this.
But perhaps my imagery is all I can provide for my bliss.

But then, I suppose, the merpeople feel the same way.
Maybe they wish for the toes that we find ugly.
Maybe they wish to frolic in the sand, and dance with a drink in hand.
Maybe they want to have a house where sparks make machines beep and things heat up.
But the only fish here are dead, they wouldn't like an old friend on a dinner plate.
And they're lungs couldn't fill up quite the same.
And really we should all stay where we belong.
I will stay up here and they will stay down there.
But I imagine we would all fantasise without a care.