Seagulls swan-dive
willingly into the
bitter November bay
intrepid plunging
and seeking
marine breakfast.
We avoid eye contact
avoid depth
pulling ourselves to
this feeding frenzy
feathered valor.
Laughter feels like choking
on dry biscuits.
A sparrow twitters
anxiously nearby
flashes of grey wing
from dead bush tangles.
We crane our
lonely necks
us scientists
us ornithologists.
I was hoping you’d
study the way
our palms connected
etched lifelines pressed together.
Instead we drink juice boxes
to busy our tongues
slurping from cardboard
while seagulls feast.
An eagle,
Clawed umber giant
casts shadows
on the steel water
birds shadowing birds.
Tiny featherhearts
more chaotic, more fervent,
more alive
than ours.
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