MOTIVATIONAL
SPEAKER
A chain
gang of ducks digging their way
through
darkening blue. Little thumb prints
of red on
the horizon. Cold Baltic Sea beneath them.
Are ducks
too busy fleeing buckshot
to take
five? They seem to be constantly
swerving
away from rest in peace.
Or are they
fleeing nothing but the urge to do nothing?
No slackers
in this squadron.
Suppose they’re
on a flight as useless as
frescoes in
a dilapidated palace in Palermo
or this
poem for that matter…or any art
but literally
over-the-top
of the
world we’re looking at, walking through,
pushing
some kind of feathered agenda
up there on
their own just for the hell of it.
Like teenage
boys on Friday nights way back when
driving up
and down Mt. Diablo Blvd.,
listening
to Hotel California and Dust In The Wind
eying
Mustangs and Camaros with nowhere to go.
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