|Unisex gull feathers
Near the prongs of the seaside everyone
impersonates the whitecaps and sails
incognito except for a prow insignia
they flap around at the shore gutters.
The gulls all look more spiffy
nonchalant grays and whites
stringing the waves for fish
gull girls camouflaged for fish.
The trouble is the crowd is too gusty
for introductions when the surf grazes
and a guy thinks about anchoring
at an island with a sopped sailoress.
The gulls go up to someone
sunny-mouthed and flighty.
Half the time they get beamed
with a toughguy right wing.
And then they get a response.
She looks out to sea to make sure
she's what he really wants.
Gull girls outshouting the weather and
looking like any sailor who just wants
to go out to sea.
The white plaster house
its vague imprint
having the spare handsomeness
of a sand dollar that
cracked open has hidden surf-birds
could be in Ireland
as well as Greece as Mexico
as the Midwest
with its flattened mansard roof
and the plain supposition:
shrubbery might sprawl like a vice
which causes a mother to crouch
over the birth of seedlings
feeble beside the approach steps.
The only flowers
they seem indigenous near grass
as does her daughter
tipping a toddler watering can
with the pretend of a tea set
really infusing the plaster façade
with a peasant garland
even if men get skimpy with
ground cover and promises.
The incline's knick-knack rack
swan river daisy and raggedy
asters can subliminally affect
the (non-trampling) tread.
A tricycle the melting pastel
of grape Popsicle
has pedaled off from the
clean cloud of transience
still sketchy as sand dollar petals
rayed across hidden birds
the anywhere of almost and amicably
three puzzling blossoms standing out.