After some time in this arid country we met, still almost strangers, at the dam, immodestly dropped clothes upon the sand, pulled swimmers on, and found an entry into green water. A double light-ring ripples shoreward, signing the infinite in water. We converge on our limit: one circle, two mouths, two bodies sinking out of the light. It’s not so cold. It’s not that clear. Questions follow us to the shore. How deep was it out there? And is there more to this? Yes. Well, maybe. In which case, what’s this groping in the shallows? Now rehearse: how much of this was innocence, how much thirst?