The Red Boat

The red boat bobs alone on the beautiful sea.

The sea breathes as easily as the breeze.

The bow shaves the waves that break and split down the middle,

only to blend again behind the ever-widening wake.

Under the wobbly belly of the boat swim fewer and fewer fish.

The peaceful commotion above hides the sullen silence of the deep.

The silvery surface refuses to admit the barrenness underneath,

keeping it a secret from those who insist on futile displays of resistance.

Yes, a living world can die while you wait for the bus to excess.

Your sense of wonder is usurped by forces that serve you for dessert.

Time’s appetite accelerates.  

The spacious species spreads, mesmerized by intelligence, even though

the net effect may devastate.

The red boat sinks and slowly makes its way

to the bottom of the sea, falling asleep.

Bad air spruces up the sunset as it bleeds to death on the horizon.

Watercolors feed the brain a treat before its vessel wades back inside

to watch TV, feed the cat, and eat another heaping plate

of steaming red meat that sits on the red table

like a red whaleboat floating on a gleaming sea of blood.

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