here from the belly of the whale
the city is а sparkling shoal
and
the statue of drummond has its back to the ocean –
[statues are for people not for the ѕеа]
cultivate fish from within
to eat it some day
waiting for а woman to appear from the precision of а carcass
some day we are happy in our cetacean garden
and she walks softly at my side
dreaming the saddest Sunday in the world in а suburb on the other side
some day we are middle aged and drink for lack of choice
and the crane on the pier will be smashed like а dead insect
against а thousand fissures down the waters’ throat
the ѕеа is in the picture of men not in the dreams of statues