Hermit crabs and cholery shells, crushed beneath his feet as he comes towards
you,
he’s
waving at you.
Lift him up to see what you can see, as he begins his focusing,
he’s
aiming at you.
And now he has, cut aways from memories and closeups of anything
that he
has seen or even dreamed, and now he’s finished focusing.
He’s imagining lightening
striking, sea sickness away from here.
Look who’s laughing now that you’ve
wasted,
how many years and you’ve barely even tasted,
anything remotely close to
everything you’ve boasted about.
Look who’s crying now.
Driftwood floats after
years of erosion.
Incoming tide touches roots to expose them.
Quicksand steals my
shoes.
Clouds bring the F-stop blues.
Look who’s laughing now that you’ve
wasted,
how many years and you’ve barely even tasted,
anything remotely close to
everything you’ve boasted about.
Look who’s crying now
