Oceans of words and ripples of time
we stand on the shore alone or together
or live in memories good or bad
happy or sad
a child that hears angry words and thinks a fist is to hit
learns to be angry or hide
when people tell the truth or lie
I am the driftwood floating on the tide
a tiny plant growing in a crack spread wide where my heart was
I float along and hear and see many things
sea gulls screaming over a platter of roast chicken
someone threw in the air never came down
an oil tanker spreading black lies in dripping grounded birds
a number to call and no one cares
we are all oceans of words what we say and do
who we touch or not
the things we said we would do and forgot like a woman's life packed away in pieces of eight
and greedy relatives fighting over the bones
of chicken fed to seagulls on a beach alone