There on the beach was a big blow up plastic whale
It had just made the trip from across the Atlantic
Having abandoned the arms of its eight year old owner
Without so much as a “See you tomorrow”
And now stranded by an outgoing tide it was slowly deflating
In the sun and heat of this New England afternoon
The birds were curious tourist adding insult to injury
Poking their beaks into the sides of this rubberized find
Never asking but only avoiding the obvious questions
Like why no flies were involved or what about the lack of smell
Which would normally accompany such discoveries
A gentle sea breeze from off shore ruffled even more feathers
And aroused an alien sort of curiosity when it added the illusion
Of life to the seemingly sleeping black blubbery giant
The Department of Fisheries was called and a team of experts arrived
To take pictures and notes of the tragic but all too frequent event
Before any further discomposure could occur and souvenirs lifted
As always was the case when these poor sick miracles of nature
Beach themselves in what was thought to be a desperate cry for help
Such a tragedy could have possibly been avoided with some counseling
One uniformed bureaucrat was overheard saying to herself
As one of her avian contemporaries found a Croaker in the sand
Smelling like the real deal it devoured the evidence before it too
Was cataloged a victim of what was being called a thinning of the herd
By now having lost most of its volume and mass the plastic whale
Was blown over on its side and its blow hole was found to be plugged
Some observant and caring tourist from San Francisco began
Performing mouth to blowhole CPR on the dying inner tube
As the crowd stood by praying for a miracle to occur
But on this day it was not meant to be….
2007 © T Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/does-anyone-have-a-harpoon-handy/
