At Night The Water Comes

At night the water comes in
from the Pacific, hovers in the air
until the temperature drops,
adheres to the grass, the windows,
metal, plastic,
drips down from high places,
collects in low places

Me. I collect it,
pools of it, in my hair,
clothes, eyes
as I wait,
wait for the sun to return and
pull it all back into the air
before I drown in it.