"Fins."
Imposters in the water, we look ridiculous.
But who's watching us?
Plastic fins and masks, false skin zipped on
to protect from cold, pallid faces down
on the platter of the sea.
We are nothing like the orange anemone glued to rock wall,
combing the slosh with its--
what?
Tentacles?
But then again, the anemone is an animal,
pretending to be a plant.
The sea lion is a mammal, pretending to be a fish.
The marine iguana, a lizard, pretending to be an eel.
Parrotfish, surgeonfish, sergeant major, harlequin
wrasse, fakers all, or so are words would make them.
Because we can't quite believe the luck
to be a thing with eyes, looking at anything else with eyes.
Can't quite bear the weight of our terrestrial burden.
So we float and kick, heads down,
imagining what we might have been or will become.