Bird Surfers

Bird Surfers

Circling, swimming
by the Interstate shore.
Waiting for the perfect ride.

There! Dive!
Just behind the headlight!
Lift your head, whoosh!
Flick the antenna! Yes!
Tumbling in the wash
laughing at the tail lights
and the glimpse of startled face.

Later, on the wire,
stories fly, tales spread.
Lies of legends grow.
The Carrera! The Vette! The Z!
Listen as the youngers tell
of their first slippery hybrid
or green sedan. Smile, remember.

“Hey, where’s Martin?” No one knows.
“He said he would ride the Mack today.”
The wire becomes a silent pew,
broken purple feather floats to the berm.