On this gray beach of sand and pebble.
Raymond, in yellow polo-neck sweater,
shabby shorts, bare feet,
catches some Autumn sun.
Be thankful, someone whispers,
that you’re not him.
That’s how he exists these days…
in the un-thanks, the un-blessings, of others.
He runs like a gull.
He floats like a loon.
His jaw sloshes back and forth
like a pelican
with pouch full of fish.
What need we have nature
when we have him?
So what’s next on his agenda?
To mate with the crab?
To crawl on the sea-bed like a mollusk?
To slither like a sea snake?
Or to kill like the eagle?
Or be killed as the mouse?
Be careful, someone says.
These are the beaches of your mind.
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