There was nowhere to sit.
The tables echoed with the rules and etiquette.
And their particularities.
I looked around at satisfied people.
An ocean formed to my left.
A long strange beach formed out of grassy clay hills.
You used to see me climb.
Now I walk straight and aligned.
I walk right out ostracized.
And thank God for my solitary existence.
The straight line out of their town fences.
For some reason my place was elsewhere.
Their large churches yards were organized with tiny flags.
They cast a spell on the mouth to make it open and brag.
Grins were sold at discounts near the candyfloss machine.
The forbidden beach followed me like a tail, salty and clean.
Bothering the audience who were just trying to make sense of the scene.
Their tunnel minds like slaves, my power showed strange waves.
That dug up roadsides and broke into country with sand and saltwater.
The priest came forth and with his righteousness he caught it.
"Why do you turn our mountain village into some silly beach"
I kept walking out of the gate, unwilling to be beseeched.
The priest kicked at the crabs snapping at his frock.
I walked all the way into savory dusk fog.
My presence was the forming sand dune and sea,
overseeing the endless body of water of lunacy.
My eyes sped to the horizon like darts.
I brought the senseless into my heart.
Spread these crazy coasts across the land.
You are the priest, blind and branded.
I am the loose sand, slipping with the shifting prose,
Upturning beautiful white tables with the shores I grow.
Splitting the concrete below them, I mount I ride.
Inviting the sand and gargantuan tides,
looking into your eyes once to speculate on your confusion.
That my lack of meaning muddles your need for conclusion.
In a world that is slowly shaping up to be something,
born of my abstract whim.
