In the school

I see the sharks

but they

don’t seem

to notice me. 

I am not thrashing

or stirring up

the water. 

I am not

meekly hiding,


I am flagrant

and unconcerned. 

They are busy

and I am

too small a fish

for frying. 

So I cruise past

their strobing lights 

and continue on



The 404

I wanted to see
some pictures of the city
before the freeway
made a thick scar
across its belly.
The searches
were fruitless;
they merely yielded
more pictures
of more freeways.
I don’t suspect
any conspiracies,
rather I believe
we have lost the idea
that it was ever
any different
than it is now.
I guess that’s worse.