Monday, 13 July 2026

Come Forty Six

Ships by the bay, I would wave 
Not that I would be seen, 
 yet
 for what it's worth, I would
Approximations, belief, delusions, 
  and thereof maybe
Even at past five of forty, I do
I now choose though, to aim my waving
  to those further away from the  coast
Pointlessness is better exaggerated 

The seagulls are a hundred strong
 Maybe a hundred more, or twenty less
 Gross value, probability, 
    guesstimates, thereon
I don't wish to fly like them,
  I prefer my fish store bought, 
   cooked by me
Precision, crafted, selected 
 sans compulsion of hunger
They don't do spice, I do, I relish
My arrogance is underrated, 
 or my belief of being unlike me is.
My existence is overstated


No comments:

Post a Comment