Flying Sardines

The other day

We rocked the shores of Squibnocket.

The rocky beach made us jump and jerk as we walked.

Bent at the waist, eyes intently down

Searching.

K, J and Vivian, a triple-decker sandwich

All begging for shells.

Rocks, pebbles, stones

Of all races, creeds, colors and cultures.

Broken, beautiful shells hide

Beneath them

Between them

Washed up onto them.

The rocks house broken hearted crabs, garbage, shells, and

SARDINES

Flipping, Flopping

Gaping, Gasping

Struggling, Striving

For nothing less than life.

Feeble tails fanning the waterless, heartless air.

Begs for a mermaid to attend,

To put his seat back in the upright position.

K gasps

J bends

I watch

One of their hands

I don't remember which

Reaches and gently scoops up the quivering, slick fish and

Chucks it underhand back to the sea.

But more, more amongst our foreign shores wash

UP on sand to strand themselves.

We diligently oblige.

From one moment, swimming,

Then flopping, gasping, striving

Dying

To Flying.