The Pretty Things

We were fluttering out over water
that had seen time change it from blue to green
cloud it with waste
and then listen to the complaints
as it jetisoned the floatsam.

The spray coming off he sides of our boat
was an arrogant slap to an organism
that had been in place long before us.

And yet we rode on
our flutter changing to a crash
our attention unchanged
focused upon
so many other
pretty things.

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