Last Tuesday I found an old bottle
Glued together with shark fins and sincere apologies
Inside, only a faded clipping of the seaweed stock market
"Sell high, concentrate on plankton,"
It advised.
Remember when umbrellas could swim?
I occasionally see sailboats
Painted in the corporate hues of capitalism
They only leave the harbor on rainy Sundays
When the wind's mood is set to ironic neutrality.
The lazy deckchair conspiracy