In Different Waters (NaPoWriMo 2022 #19)

Where do I swim?
Literally nowhere.
Figuratively,
in so many
oceans;
often rivers
of some sort of art
that flowed
from someone,
Nourished by the flow
the stream of sensing,
that rippled
something within me.
Often I ride
on the crest
of a wave
of emotions,
invoked by moments
coursed and sourced
from a place
intangible,
so difficult to explain
to others who only gasp and gulp at
who only know metal and plastic
and not the sea of similes.