Who Speaks for the Albatross?

The weather matches the location and my mood.
Rain drops on the asphalt scatter like frightened ants
seeking refuge in cracks and sodden earth.
Six degrees of seperation my ass,
Who Speaks for the Albatross?

Beneath the swirled oyster sky,
¦the crickets are chirping¦
¦the crickets are chirping¦
¦the crickets are chirping¦
they have a mute audience
more Gumbo from the mud bugs.
When the guillotines start working,
I'll remember this.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain