Seascape

Distant birds on the sea's horizon probably looked the same when I wasn't here and it's my fervent hope that they had thoughts of their own, Epicurean discourses to give perspective to a life of diving for fish. Some were pteradactyls, our not so distant cousins, and their calls were music along the lines of Wagner, highly modern art and less fortunate smaller dinosaurs. A day in the air was a day at the office and water cooler talk drifted to the ocean floor where primitive fish lived in fear of the monster squid. There was the politics of barnacles, the maverick electric eel and there were whale calls on the radio... what else would be? Well, the griffin's entertaining, the dragons have gone away and the sea monsters are hiding deep in Lochness Lake. Our mother's hair is greying: Toronto, Buenos Aires, Chicago, Bangcock... are growing like leper's marks on her flesh. 7 pills a day will keep the reaper away and the doctor will make his profit. There may yet be time to make decisions, revisions and incisions between tea and ices. A far away Pteradactyl soars over the sea and I wonder if, in her younger days, this earth might have been measured out, measured with, coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot.