From March 25, 2006
I have two feet, flat and wide--
why can't I stand about smugly
on frozen river water receding by the day?
I can flap my two wide arms--
Why can't I launch into spring chill air
with wings full and open and nonchalant?
My nose is large and silly--
Why can't I bellow and call and honk and fuss
with no remorse?
My body fills out, round, plain and ungainly--
why can't I sway side to side in icy water
until I lurch clumsily ashore using no arms?
say the wet, fallen trees
growing lichen like row upon row of fan-colored fans
and smelling of musk and mold:
perhaps in another life, dear
Photo courtesy of Ross/Picassa