I have this friend who is certifiably mad.
All the best people are, you know.
I know I’m not supposed to go
traipsing off with lunatics
but a tinfoil hat is not so far
from a fedora, after all.
Today he’s telling me about butt ducks.
He talks to animals, aliens too.
We are at a nude beach
and I am staring intently into a book
We had apples and a honey bun
and some cheddar chips and orange juice
I selected that meal because I wanted it
and he is not picky.
We are at the nude beach because he wanted to
and I am not picky.
Butt ducks are special birds which give you looks
and speak into your mind, “look over here”
and then lean forward in the water
to show you the moon and make you laugh.
They are for cheering you up when no one else will,
There are some of our wondering mutual friends
who say “Don’t get murdered” and “Come here instead”
but the heart of me is with people who are mad,
who leave their shorts with me,
and don’t mind if I close my eyes
and am comforted,
just listening to their crazed laughter.