stumbling cross eyed paths

rivers run in parallel

opposites of one another

with whole universe in between

on the other side of seeing

so much grit fogs the lens

hiding depths

hiding fish in water

hiding the cool pearl blue scales

nickles in a wishing well

pass on uncounted


hungry in the streets the starving children beg

when there should be a photograph, somewhere

there should be a museum full of art

worshiping your frame

detailing every tiny way

in which you catch the light

in your fins

and toss it out again; raindrops

then my grumbling stomach might laugh

might smile

might pretend not to be hungry

while staring at a picture of


these two rivers

never meet until

too wide the


the sea

the innumerable faces

one of them might be yours

but it’s not

and I’m not

either one of the crowd

I am

what a monster


coiled beneath

river grass and


and you are

just one glory bird

sailing above

a distant horizon.