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.

Pick up!


“…Remember: two wrongs don’t make a right.  It takes two wrongs, a shin kick, and a prank phone call. (Maxine)”


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