Near The Plastic Stream

A blue and black heron
stands ankle deep
in the plastic water.
You say that you’ll 
remove the ugly details 
and add a few orange flowers 
from another timeframe.
One beer can with its friends
streams away. The sundown 
photoshops out us all.
Another of those moments 
we feel small, I say that we
should leave the place 
before the beasts arrive,
you say that we’re the beasts.
Plastic crackles. Something 
hisses. An insect begins 
a thousand joins in the chorus.

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