That track from the 70’s 

Was playing from the memory jukebox

In my dream, she says.

You are mumbling —

Your words are slipping, lost 

Between the discs.

Rub my foot, she says

Also your toes? 

Or between the discs? I ask.

Hermit crabs drag spirals, 

Tracing rhythms from the songline,

With their footprints —

Echoing her dreams.

Bubbler crabs roll balls of sand,

Tesserae gathered in fractals —

Tethering the line 

Into its black hole.

Jasmine flowers accent the maze

Of the nighttime spiral walks,

And, gathered on an orange shell,

Draw in the ocean 

With the fragrance of sambac.