what is it you search for, sea dreamer?
what dreams awake you?
on what shores do you dry your wings
(or do you even fly)?
i hunker down like a rat or a fox or a raccoon
keen to the movements of man,
i remain nocturnal, unseen.
i have my silence, my solitude, the voice of a rabbit.
laying low i listen to the grumblings of cooks and diners,
dinner plates clattering, announcing their greasy roundness.
noisily, clumsily the humans finish the work of the day
beers, deftly smuggled out the back door whet
waitresses who light their cigarettes outside
by the dumpsters in the darkness
while discussing their plans for tonight--Saturday night
--time to make it come true.