At dusk this coastline’s quiet; there’s a lull.
We sat on a flat rock – pretense, beach hut!
While we ate, there’s a crash, angels from above.
They’re hovering, fluttering, white Seagulls.
They fill the air; they want food – WHEEDLE!
… except for the one gull who walked back and forth
in front of the of the crowd, beak bent,
barking nonstop, almost regal.
Him I feed.
“…Remember: two wrongs don’t make a right. It takes two wrongs, a shin kick, and a prank phone call. (Maxine)”