for Krassimir
He takes me to the wildest part of the coast
shows me how to fry an egg in a vat of fat
in a trailer while Penka pours the coffee
I stir in Coffee-Mate with fishermen
who nod even though I’m not a man
or a refugee
He takes me in the boat to the rocks
where the goose barnacles are scraped off
to ship to Spain
explains that if we don’t watch the tide
we could be stranded overnight
Seems crazy to me, the risk
even crazier to eat barnacles
but I understand
scraping
together
enough
Moored by shore
he spends hours fixing the motor
I swim in cold, clear water
under the eyes of eagles
And for a handful of days
at the edge of this land
he has nothing to run from
but tides
