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tired, hungover, hungry,
it was rainy outside
and i didn’t have my coffee yet

i go to look at the cover of the Times,
like every morning--
my heart crushed from the night before
again and again
drinking and making bad decisions--

i glance at the headlines
but the above-the-fold is dominated by a gigantic, full-color photo
of a brown pelican
covered in oil
flailing
struggling out of the water.

we are both so tiny
and so far from each other
and from anyone who can help.
but i will live.

a co-worker walks by, seeing my tears,
rubbing my shoulder,
understanding the sentiment
if not the severity of my reaction.

and all i want to do is drink the oil,
drink the damaged ocean
and die
for that pelican.
he is better than me,
better than the rest of us
combined.

and then i go to work.