The water slides to the horizon
Solid as a slate blue tile
Ending harshly at the razor sharp division
Between ocean and sky

If I were a sparrow
I’d pluck popcorn
On the wing,
From the sticky fingers of children.

I thought it ironic
That brittle leaves
Skidding along the sidewalk
Sound exactly like a stream of rushing water

I dream of a game show where the contestants are CEOs: bright, shiny-suited and ready for global business. There’s only one rule in this game. In order to keep their current jobs they need to apply for a job, any job, on their own company websites — or worse on the websites created by the recruiting firms they’ve hired.