Sailing

Sail through Corkscrew slough,
in a trimaran stocked with fizzy brew,
On the glittering business of urban water,
past the sewage treatment plant and urban matter,
beyond the Waterworld set still serving time,
past the Redwood City harbor line.

That quixotic reference to the push and pull of tide,
marks a white line along the marsh grass to one side,
and a beach that may not be one,
built by mud and shells disintegrating in the sun,
and the pelicans that fly high above,
flock here to their private bathtub.

Think of what you don't think about when you drive by here,
the seals, for one, look worse for the wear,
in their flaccid bellies lies the fate of populations,
from their dwindling numbers you talk about fluctuations,
Or not, because the day is too nice,
why talk science when you can traipse,
around that flotilla of sailboats,
in a beer can race for the best float.