Not knowing how to construct
a metaphor, you might have
thought the boy were stupid,
but you saw the way he claimed
himself destined to become
a gull in another life,
chattering away on a rock,
perched at the edge of friendship,
not seeing this as the place-
ment of one thing atop
another, his desire
to become flightful
clashing with his want
to claim that rock home
waves lashing at his legs
each day, eroding
any sense of the literal,
any stable ground; what
is stable ground anyway?
And if Hugo was
a seagull, what would this
metaphor look like then?
Featured photo courtesy of author.
