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[Devilfish clouds close in] If there were ever a moment when the floods came again, tilting earth toward the days of serpent people spinning upward from the UFO crash site, I would buy you strawberry ice cream.

I am upset with the ocean, the way its predictability washes over my chaos. I see blood near the buoy pouring from rich lovers with nothing to pursue but life. I think about scrying into their blood. I think about scrying into blood and ice cream.

My first two wet dreams came last week at 33 in the bed of our sailboat—the first was for love and the second for gangbangs. There was fruit in my wet dream.

I wish I could churn the ice cream myself and pick the strawberries from our garden where they sat green all summer filled with slugs and worms until the rain rolled in. But we are far from our garden.

We will continue sailing and we will live off the salt. I will use it to make you ice cream, and the ice cream will melt, and we will pour it into a birdbath, and we will stare into it, and we will see other worlds.

We will see Candyland or maybe that’s too obvious.

But any place is sweeter than this place. The place where my skin has been peeled.

The place they call me Bananaman
Because they are feeding me to the old gods.

The practice of ice cream scrying was perfected by fish people who looked through water. Ice cream showed them the by-and-by before the boat ride through the bardo.

I want to craft this love, but I cannot. It makes itself.

And when the sacrifice feels like too much, I look over my beaten body and see it as water.
So all the cuts and bruises float on the outside of me. You’ve floated outside of me for too long. I want to be swallowed so I can see the meaning.
I want to melt into your cosmic gut, infinite eros, divine madness bubbling and growling forever.

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Mason Parker is an Okie-born, Montana-based writer. His first book is a collection of scrappy environmental writing titled Until the Red Swallows It All. It’s out now from Trident Press. In his free time he enjoys wandering aimlessly into the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness with his partner and two dogs.