Bird dunks his furry head in the water, blissfully shattering his mirror,
As you dye your grey one black, perfecting your reflection
(Or so you try.)
He spreads his wings in delight at their spreadability as you
Flap your fat arms on a lawn chair;
Hold up the tragedies of the world in plastic pages resting on your
Massive roll of
I gave up on life a long time ago.
Your other half lays in SPF and a saggy bikini hoping to safely darken her back, once passionately unstrapped; a back you never see anymore.
So you take her to a white-sanded beach where you might lay again as bride and groom (honeymoon suite)
Fully clothed by public perception, for better or for worse.
Strangers fly across the country for pretty views they don't even see.
The sea bird shakes the feathers of his skinny neck and struts proudly across a sinking sand.
Proud to be a sea bird and God's at that. Proud to be a member of the lovely, proud in all humility.
And every flight is an Upward miracle.
Yet you don't see him,
Mister real estate agent who hates his job, as you grimace into magazines about a world you don't really care about; you don't see
The loneliness beside you with her broken oiled wings (she knows not how to fly,)
Loneliness who you promised to love and honor all the days of your life.
I sip my smoothie loudly and after remembering it to be rude,
Sip all the more loudly for the chance to break their tired monotony I sip and laugh and run in the waters like the child they’d forgotten.