I do not have one photograph of me in a crowd
since I was 15
dispersal it seems
happens when clams
decide they do not want to be eaten
lying upside down in shell
rocking slightly to the swell
of another’s hunger
nor does the sour effervessence of champagne
dull the gritty pearl’s fate
when she is presented raw and quivering
longing for the sea and the weight of water
upon her shell
perhaps that is why shell fish was outlawed
in the Tulmud
we sit in our red tents
beyond the barnacled city walls
wondering at such things
and though we stand alone in photographs
it feels much like we are in a crowd
for the boyance of honesty is best of all
perhaps like pearls comprised of rubbed elements
swirling into circles
the truth has a way of
brining us back to shore