For Rich*
Before I became a mermaid I could ride a bicycle
Then one day I grew that tail
Now my bike is rusting in the shed
Unused
With my old piano
My brownie scout uniform
And those old Beatle albums.
Don’t need those here in the creek
Floating under mama’s mimosa tree with the crabs and croakers
Breathing in brackish water
Breathing out memories
Missing the sweet sounds of my youth
*When my friend Rich read my first mermaid poem his immediate response was "You don't need legs to play a piano...but you need them to ride a bicycle."
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