When I see birds perched on power lines I feel inspired to write a haiku.
Then I remember I'm not a poet and I'm not sure how to write a haiku and Solares Hill has become a boring weekly supplement to the daily paper and doesn't do poetry anymore.
Wire in the sky, bird flies off, alone with my dog.
Damn, I'm pretty sure I need more syllables.
Alone with my dog and lots of wires overhead which slice the clouds like a cheese cutter.
Cheyenne looked at me and wondered out loud why I was lying on my back making appreciative noises at the sky. We started to meander back to the car, past the liquid trash field.
Wind and waves tend to pile garbage into these islands and all the detritus of civilization slips up against dry land as well. I imagine the second mate of some tramp steamer in the Gulf Stream is wandering the ship frantically looking for his other sandal. Too bad dude, it's right here.
Last seen resting comfortably in the dead seaweed was a box of fruit juice.
And of course indestructible plastic riding high on the sargasso.
Styrofoam and plastic. Lovely enhancements to a field of boring natural grasses.
Stuff just gets away from you sometimes and on the water it just all gets blown down from the horizon.
On the seawall anglers abandon bags of stuff that smells so good Cheyenne can't leave it alone. She looks like Eeyore munching a thistle field but it's all human left overs.
I see dog owners tugging like power winches on dog leashes trying to prevent their animals from being animals. I think exploration is the purpose of life even for and perhaps especially for a dog that has but one way to experience the world.
Cheyenne agrees. It's hard work though, sniffing through all that trash.
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