She picked a
postcard
of a man standing on a ladder
on a sandy, black and white beach,
conducting the Atlantic with his hands,
holding a concert for onlookers in lawn chairs,
defying physics, playing Poseidon.
She said she wanted a life like that,
kooky, but serene:
like cyclopses waltzing to sirens' songs,
or a cuckoo clock floating on the ocean
chiming away in a Halcyon daze.
Joey Goodall's poetry has
previously appeared in Verse Wisconsin. He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota.
