We did little to further the ongoing conversation. Our gestures would vanish in the wet air, our gait formal and awkward in the sand as cacti bloomed between legs of dogs.
Stray dogs jumped and ran to other dogs ,beyond the mound, to fishermen’s shacks ,the shacks that sported colorful garments before the conversant sea of fishing nets.
The nets broke off ongoing conversation between molusks and hole drilling-crabs making drag-marks as if of formal nets, nets broken like holes in mosquito nets ,letting in mosquitoes to buzz near ears. The sky stretched like a drying garment broke in holes to let in sea-conversation with a moon that would listen endlessly.