let's sit around
and be pragmatic
lube up our egos
like a barel of chap stick
burn up our fuel supply
with dark beer and slapstick
bury our treasure then
count our steps to map it
the wind is whistling off shore
seagulls glide by
like black and white boomerangs
across a salt flaked sky
whales wash up
become weighty
blubber sigh
time feels timeless
time slips
by
