I touch I taste the poison in its spikes as they stab into me hurting me and I jet away jet away jet away. The flurry of bubbles rubs my skin clean so I curl and unfurl, curl and unfurl and as I twirl I remember it is sweet is nutty is spongy flesh in my beak.

I remember I lurked I watched from a grove of swaying weed as a lobster reared up above the urchin and flipped it with its claws. Upside-down its spikes were smaller were softer and I saw its mouth was weak was penetrable as I watched the lobster pull its flesh through the hole and a haze of filaments curled through the water and brushed against me and I touched it tasted it wanted it. I rippled slowly from the weed to the rocks above the lobster and spread my mantle wide and dropped onto it pulled it into me, engulfed it flapping flexing thrashing in my arms and held it held it held it tasting its panic its confusion its defeat as it went still. I thought about pressing the lobster crushing its armour in my beak but in its claws in its maw the urchin tasted felt looked so sweet so nutty. I dropped the lobster let it scurry beneath the rocky ledge and I dipped the tip of my arm into the urchin’s mouth and curled a wedge of flesh out and pressed it to my beak and it was spongy was bliss.

I jet back to the urchin and float above it and know it is spiny is bristly is poisonous. I need a lobster to flip it for me or something to flip it for me, something to flip it with? A rock to flip it with? I feel I see starlight brush my skin and I scatter sand as my arms unfurl, searching searching searching, and over there—what is it?

Sand sprays as something stomps, punctures the surface and scatters air in bubbles. There is a crash and a thrash and a thrash and eddies curl and swirl and I taste that it is a she like me, but she is not like me, and she becomes still becomes drifting becomes floating and the surface laps against her, swirls about her.

Slowly safely safely slowly I jet towards her and curl through her eddies and taste her eddies and see her skin her hair and taste what she is and feel she is warm. Gently gently I touch her, test her, curl my arms about her and she is covered in soft spikes that tickle me and her pores open against me and leak her bubbles onto me tickling me tickling me and she is tense and is a she—but what is this? I trace my arm along her and taste that she blends with … he? I taste something he, I touch something he, and she kicks and knocks into me and scatters the surface and bubbles flurry about me and I jet away jet away jet away. I feel strange, my body is pulsing is purring is humming is whirring and my legs dance and curl and unfurl and I feel strange and I taste I am she on the currents that swirl about me. I taste so she, I was she and I am she I am she I am she.