Thursday Oyster Special
a poem of cravings
Lucky me
walking on the silver edge of the sea
picking up tiny salty things and taking iPhotos
Thursday night oyster fry tempting me
those soft salty wedges perfect though not quite
equalling the briny smell of the beach
just outside
just to be outside
A break in the clouds
till they close over that streak of blue
a wound healing before my eyes
I would jump into that blue gash
fly in bluestream
free-fall into the Outers
rolling wind tunnel-like
further and further from the earth
from satellites
from watchers and thieves
no one can steal from me