i stepped on the society carpet
and it felt thread-bare
when i picked at it
it was no longer there
but now floating in the air
like a soft dream i fantasized
a whispered voice: "you won first prize!"
although i didn't enter any contest voluntarily
i must have been stranded on a beach
looking for my feet
many other hopefuls
sped past
crab-like to holes in the sand
i had a tiny bucket and a small plastic shovel
building castles inside my mind
by the low tide mark
there was no bend in my road
i didn't like to bend
i liked to shovel the wet sand
i found small bits of shell and stone
a fragile body
all which i used to decorate my growing castle
by the low tide mark
this was before the storm came and washed me
away to sea:
i took my bucket and shovel with me.
