Oh stupid scuba man
It’s you again.
Take your tank and flippers and
get
Out of my natural habitat –
besides –
National Geographic has already
beaten you to it.
Of course I know how to speak
English
You fucking moron – and if I felt
like being a battering ram today,
I’d relieve
you of that ridiculous air
contraption. Yes –
I’d puncture that fucker just for
the pleasure
of watching bubbles rise and
burst brightly like
(what do you call that thing
again…?)
a disco ball. That’s right, it would be
a god-damned disco down here.
But you would never know
because you’re always running out
of air.
You’d better get back to your
boat before
my brothers (Frank and Joe)
return.
They've done hard time at Sea
World, you know.
Furthermore, I have my own land
gadget to test.
Yes – that’s right – I've decided
to know
the feeling of dirt on my dorsal.
So I’ll put on my land-suit
(designed to keep
my skin moist) and maybe I’ll
come
observe you in your
home/office/church.
But – I wouldn't hold my breath
(pun intended) because
my sonar senses tell me that the
ground
isn't that fucking great after
all.
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