Saturday, March 8, 2014

Poem: Unexpected


The foster parents of iguanas
meet each Sunday at the
stadium to exchange helpful
tips and discuss breeding opportunities

(between parents, between iguanas,
nobody remembers).

On the way home, they stop at
the Beach of Rich Folk, where
everyone claims to be a tourist

A man in bathing suit and
bow tie runs the sand through a
purifier, working the shore in
ten-foot squares

Oh you don’t want to know where
this stuff has been, years and
years of flying poop machines.
Before they put in the
ultraviolet safety dome.
(After work, he drives to the
landfill to hear the screech of
seagulls. It makes him want to
throw a frisbee.)

Sal carries Guido to the
breakers, flips him over and
plays pattycake on his
sandpaper belly. Guido giggles,
in the way that only an
iguana can.

A simulated sunset blossoms
over the dome. Packs of wild
poodles descend the hills in
clouds of chocolate, stopping
at the water to howl in
perfect G-major chords.

Sal sets Guido aright and
feeds him a passing crab.
Okay, he says.
You know what to do.

Guido gallops across the sand.
The poodles turn as one.

From the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV

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