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44 Sea-Change We slip under the skin of ocean, slide into the brine, float belly-down. A Barracuda scours. Gold dangles: fishing lures. Blue Tang scuttle in sync. Further below a Tarpon, lengthy as any man, cruises the sand floor. Mothers, we hover: blue fins wave while hair ripples, escaping. Will he doubt our authority? Dripping, we pull our weight onto the deck. Bats plunge. Clouds tinge coral. We raise our young to know the ocean heaves every grain. Night falls. Suspended between timber and foam, buoyed, then dropped, we pitch, catch hold. The sea cradles the sighing hull. ...

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