Seagull Doesn't Give a Shit
Fingers shoot up to cover my shame To grab and strangle sound itself Hopelessly late My hopeless words threw you away My hope and light Into a cloud Hot salt expands In my head and in my hands
The late sunlit summer evening bliss I miss walk fists Deep down in pockets Strain to keep The rain inside The welling tide The waxing pain Refrain from crying Suburban street Move my feet and be discrete My bleeding inside I can let When I get and it’s not far And close the door behind me When at last I’m in my car
But here A startling animal cry I raise my eyes to the sun Haloed there a seagull triumphant Stands atop a tiled roof In its beak it grips its prize A sunlit summer evening chip Proud silhouette My sodden form Lifts to behold his finest hour This champion of summer bliss I missed but now I cast around And yes O’ seagull You are right The world is magic liminal light Split from white And whatever right I had to cast The blurry light from blurry day Now I say Come back to me I’ll live in you Come back to me This time I’ll stay