Tuesday, September 13, 2022


Happiness is 
not what our 
ancestors thought 

the moment 
they first slithered 
up from the dross; 

the abandon, and 
the leeway 
and facility they sought 

could not be 
bought with grit, but demanded 
certainty as the cost. 

Soon, we were free
to the extent 
that we were lost: 

without even 
the savior faire to look 

as we stuck 
each slimy landing—
from rock, 

to rock, to rock. 
To this day, with each random
pivot we manage 

our fish brains still tingle 
and reel with 
the delight 

of having skirted certain 
death and damage—but never 
the same way twice.