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At swimming once,I went to turn from front to backand just kept turning,just kept turning,turning over,over and over,till the swimming teacher said,
We watch them, hypnotized.Pale and mysterious,They rise and fall. Joe says“They look like ghosts.”
The jellyfishdances through the waterwaving its frilly underwear.
We found one on the beach.
It had become a polythene bagfull of water.
Here now skyline assembles fire.The sun collects up to leave.Its bright following paled,suddenly all goes. Dusk rushesin, like door closed on windowless room.
The seagulls are doing their dance again – Wings clasped to their sides, they stare up the street.Up and down, up and down, go their knobbly pink knees;
I am a crocodile who lost my smile in the turbulent waters of the Nile.When I was very small, trapped inside my crocodile egg,
Teach me the language of Cat;the slow-motion blink, that crystal stare,a tight-lipped purr and a wide-mouthed hiss.Let me walk with a saunter, nose in the air.
The seagulls think we live at the seaside:the tower blocks are their cliffs;they swoop for fish in the gutterbut are happy that it's last night's fried rice.
Guess what, Thinker?
Tomorrow is Pets' Day at school,
and you can go.
You won't be the only one,
we're going to have a lot
You won't talk,