the Seagulls

The sour air woke me.
On top of the hill, on top of the pigment.


I didn't find a pinch of backlash, I truly searched in the dirty snow and I couldn't so I quit.
There was a need, the wind could tell.


I took my garments outside, and still, in the same form of sensuous feeling the breeze woke me with, I walked downhill and the more I descended, the mistier it got.

I didn't trip this time.
I forgot, I found three dried-up vultures on the snowy grass, eyeless.

What else? It's quite a task to re-create the events, mate.

Oh, ginger roots.
I picked some ginger roots so I could make tea afterwards.

- - -

"I had forgotten all about the segulls."

"When I was at the shore I was greeted by seagulls."

"And when I ended up thinking you had perished, you pierced you rised up and the seagulls had me scrapping the ground off, bare-handed."

"That's the catch, you're atop my brain and that's hardly saying something."

"When I stopped thriving, the seagulls had my back, they begged for me to bear."

"If this is somewhat sane (I said) I am now beginning to feel the metal nuts twisting in my stomach."

"The seagulls nodded in approval."

"They were so mean, mate, I put a stop to it, I put a stop to them."

"I did it alright, see, I grabbed the upper side of my lamp and I leaked the oil, mate, I leaked it alright."

"If that wasn't brave from my behalf, then what are you implying it was?"


"I yelled at the seagulls nonetheless. "This is my day" that's why I yelled, they stood there."

"But I stood there too, mate. That's all I re-call.

Mess."


- - -


You're already on a high hill, free of fog unless you come down.

Will I wear boots? Probably.
And if you care, I will be caring seventy times more, you stepped on rocks.



And I
fell in love
with a submarine.