the arc of a cormorant

i saw more than four cormorants flying through the air
while sitting on a cliffside near the ocean the other day,
watched them swoop down in a giant curving descent
and then glide eversoclose to the waterline
till they were out of sight.

the sky was big that day, the sun bright.

say, what's the difference between a sun roof
and a moon roof? the difference between
the sun and moon, i suppose.

and what is that? no one can say
with anything approaching absolute authority.

so much is mysterious, unsussable, like when
a curious and not-unique thought occurred to me
while i was watching the film Little Children.

that is, that there is very little in life that is
all that curious anymore. life just is as it is,
for everyone, always.

and that is what's so curious about it,
that everyone else's everpresent mystery
is all that there is that
is all that interesting.

just this, the drama of another reality,
and how we can shape our love for it into song.

hey, i told you it wasn't a unique thought.
and anyway, it's probably wrong.


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