Some familiar grey seal was seen
near Dogwood Lane. A marine biologist is tracking
movements with technology not approved by the Canadian government.
No one is outside and everyone is inside watching the news,
bored,
like every other time grey seals or other sea mammals go
missing.
The marine biologist would like to ask questions, but no one is around.
“He’s grey,” the marine biologist says to himself. “He’s definitely grey.”
The white noise of boredom—it seeps out
of the houses, though the grey seal was spotted
once or perhaps not at all by no one and yesterday
the ocean turned black and a song
drifted for a short distance and adults
became bored like when they stare at the sky
and lawnmowers trundle into the neighbourhood
having taken a wrong turn.
And the grey seal
is dancing in front of your window or juggling five TVs
on top of your roof
or possibly breaking down your door,
which lets in ocean breezes
and slaps you in the face with truth
but he realizes the futility of
the gesture
so he goes into your kitchen and digs through the freezer for fish sticks
or ice cream
then hops into your tub like a human.
