Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Ambassador

Soon, I will become the planet’s most unqualified ambassador. I can picture it: the shuffle of papers, the licensures, the tickets, the stamps - the furrowed brow of my constituent. How am I to direct him to the consulate with consonants when he conducts his business in vowels? He’s already a seal, all slick hide and sensitive whisker. And I’m to fashion him a sturdy shoe, a fitted jacket? He doesn't need them; can't abide by them.

They don't tell you, but this job description is unfired clay: viscous, yes, but pliable. Who's to say I can't loose the waters from their dams in this fine city and stock the result with charismatic fish? My son needs current and reflective surfaces, not a jurisdiction! He needs kinsmen, not an interpreter! "My son." My tongue wraps around the syllables like oysters and I swallow them whole. 

1 comment:

  1. I am so enjoying your blog, your life and the coming changes! please keep us "posted." Living by the water as you do, I bet he will be a selkie!

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