Day 19: A Poem Inspired by Weird Seashell Names
After seeing these wacky names, I wouldn’t mind making a hobby out of seashell-naming. I couldn’t resist fitting all nineteen names into one poem.
Just Drive
That ghastly miter just cut me off.
I hope someone carves an incised moon on his door.
Competent drivers are sparse doves here.
Most are strawberry top tourists
wearing their heavy bonnets and Peruvian hats,
with ill-matching leather donaxes
and false cup-and-saucer sunglasses.
They head for the Gulf or Atlantic turkey wing
in their shuttlecock volva and striped engina rental cars,
paddling woody canoebubbles to glimpse manatees
and furry snout otter clambakes.
(Those shoulderblade sea cats are mollusk masters.)
Then, unequal bittersweet, they drive back,
leaving a thread of triangular nutmeg exhaust
against a tricolor niso sunset,
a golden Lazarus jewel box that will rise again.
The Cynical Optimist 