muscles in my neck are not strong enough
to hold up my head; I am sad.  I am
glad; emotions wrangle like a thousand
fish in a net, vying for freedom, ripping
their case apart.  Sad, a crayon-scribbled shark
tears morosely at the ropes.  Big it feels,
and angry, a child whose best friend is
fast like a shark, and swimming away.
And speaking of sharks, they feel the same way;
why does the sun change in the ocean, and
how come the ocean is so far apart?
His eyes are puffy from the salt, always
open.  In the ocean, no one can see
him cry.

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