[I'm going to cheat a bit today and post something I wrote in July.]
To move quickly like a lizard on a whitewashed
wall. To not care which way is up. To eat
crumbs off the concrete floor brushing soft
snout against cool surface, searching.
To be invited to sit at the table and then expected to clean
it. To be the wrinkle in a vinyl seat
when a woman leaves it rising quickly. To be an accident
born during the Great Depression ordering
endless brown boxes brought by endless brown
trucks and men who bear no resentment.
To walk the frigid salty shallows blue with ache
and eelgrass tangled, swayed by the entering
river, lacking a beak that could catch a fish
or anything, really, that might sustain you.
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