Become The Conch


Really, I'm fine.

I'm just a little tired is all.

No, no -- no soup for me. I doubt liquid

and broth will cure fatigue. Besides, my 

kind of tired is way, way out of the medicinal league.

It's more of a rest thing; I just have to lay down

for about an hour -- maybe even a year --

and let it all pass me by. Yeah, exactly, I have

to be the sea shell, shiny, stationary, and wise, 

letting the waves wash over me forever; and 

by forever I mean until one big enough 

pushes me far enough across the earth, 

to a place where waves will never touch me again.

Or until some kid picks me up 

and puts me in his aquarium back home.

I'm tired, mom. 

The End

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