I keep it with me, a safety net for when things get out of hand.
If the social tides are shifting and I'm buffeted by the spray of icebreakers,
If the rocks are exposed and I find myself stranded among the tidepools,
keeping company with anemones and sleepy sea stars,
If the wind falls from my sails, or my boat capsizes on the reef,
If a sneaker wave comes in and drags me down, so that
I'm over my head in questions and left drifting out at sea,
I know I can pull it out and breathe the salty air above the undulating surface:
My social snorkel, my orange flotation vest, my phone call to you.