I'm a pale intruder
On an unknown beach
My back to the water
My feet in the sand
Finding no recognition
As each sign of life
Invades the precision of this
Aging land
An abandoned flipper
In a world of stone
There's a man on the shore line
With a white parakeet
Trying to make his
Bird go home
With increasing continuity
Endless space
Gazes 'round the periphery
Not disheartened
Wearing its most
Inexpressible face
My instinct is doubled as the
Waves roll by
But my vision is halved
And the foam and the green
As the insects talk to a
Blazing sky
Wax in the ear
Stitch in the side
Wolves at a feast for the blind
Under and over
The why and the wherefore
Easy to sit back with time
Driving discussions
Like cranes through the car-park
Setting them all in a line
All interceding
Not yet proceeding
Misleading doubts
In the mind
I'm a pale intruder
On an unknown beach
My back to the water
My feet in the sand
Needing no recognition
As each sign of life
Invades the precision of this
Aging land