The Status Of A Clam

The Status Of A Clam

(March 29, 2010)




The pirate fondles with his memories

And like air they drizzle in on

The winds sweeping his way from the

Nearby ports, bringing with it the smells

Of freshly caught fish, and these

Memories of ages past

Old and wrought like iron

Drift inwards like sunlight through the

Windows, softly murmuring along the off-white

Curtains

And there they are

With him now

Captured by his being

Like water pouring over him

The brutes the braves the sweet things

Of the past which now scramble

For their own permanence; their own existence

In this precious mind which slowly

But surely dwindles along with old age

Like clams that are caught up in

The ocean's tides, washed onto the seashore

And then taken back again into each

Of their lonely statuses.




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