(The Gulf Stream by Winslow Homer 1899)
Asphalt whispers, of buzzed bees.
Who flew too fast in search of knees,
Quicksand beaches, hide titanic eggs.
While ostrich feathered rainbows, served the kegs.
‘The Captain, must always stay with his ship!’
Screamed the first mate, as she cracked her whip.
We’re all drowning in someone else’s crisis.
Climbing like monkeys up the community ficus.
So who else can save us, except for ourselves?
Hard lessons two-stepped, inside of a bluish hell!
Let the music play as we sink our own boats,
I’ll be in the corner, singing parenthesis in quotes.
Stay in the saddle with your lassoed otter.
Ride waves for 8 seconds, with your chin just above water.
Only to wake up unexpectedly parched.
With everything white, and perfectly starched.