By the lagoon
Why do I keep writing and writing and writing?
Because the water keeps lapping and lapping and lapping.
The birds keep flying and singing and flying.
The boats, passing and passing and passing.
And because if I don't keep writing
Who will know any of this?
It will be too easy to think that I just lived and died
With a beach towel over my knees
So they don't burn in the pitiless sun.
Advice to the new arrival
Live for a hundred years, yes
That goes without saying.
But, more importantly,
Read the instructions carefully!
And remove your shoes before entering.
The pageant
This pageant consists of wave after wave.
This pageant features a seagull fending off a crow
So that he might consume his morsel.
It features me right in the middle
Slouched in a beach chair
Dressed in three layers
Against a chill wind.
(To my left the beach extends beyond my sight
And the same to the right, forever.)
This pageant features my squandering
Another of my 800,000 allotted sighs.
(And I hope that in this lifetime.
I will be treated to a flash of knowing
Why I am here. . .
And please, don't let it be
About the pageant
But about what lies beyond my sight.
Because I do not plan to walk
Either left or right.
I have seen enough.
I just need to know.)
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