Sean dozed in the small lifeboat surrounded by his former shipmates but it was hopeless, despite his weariness the growl of his stomach and heat of the sun made sleep impossible. Beside him, Jake shifted uncomfortably, "Man, what I wouldn't give for a burger right now. How long have we been floating now?"

"Two days," Ben snapped from the other side of the tiny vessel. "Same as the last time you asked, which by the way was five minutes ago." Sean sat up wearily and scanned the horizon for the 500th time, but land was nowhere in sight. "Besides," Ben continued. "You can go a week without food but we've got less than 24 hours left before we die of thirst."

Jake glanced over the side of the boat. "That water is just too tempting-"

"Don't be an idiot! You die sooner if you dehydrate yourself by drinking that stuff, though if you keep whining like you are I'm going to be tempted to toss you over to drown then eat you to stay alive!"

"Would you two stop bickering," Sean groaned. "My head is about to explode from this heat."

"Sorry man," Ben replied. "I'll be frank, I'm just as scared as you guys are. If only land would appear out of the horizon, or a cheeseburger."

"Boobies," Jake suddenly exclaimed earning him reproachful looks from the other two.

"Well," Ben chuckled. "I guess I could go for some good hot women myself too. Be sure more interesting than all this water."

"No, boobies! Right there!" Jake pointed overhead at some fat black birds and one circled a bit then landed smoothly inside the boat. Then men looked at it only for a minute before Sean pulled out his pocket knife, the only thing salvaged from the shipwreck. "It's not a cheeseburger," he said.

"But it's good enough for me," Ben agreed. "Guess we might live a little longer."
 

If statues could talk, what would they say? They might tell us about their maker, and the emotions that went into each nick and chistle. They may tell us their purpose, beauty, or something deeper. If statues could talk, would they talk at all? Or let us continue to ponder, appreciate, and enjoy...without knowing.
 

Gathering clouds in a browish sky,
trouble is drawing near.
White doves of peace, brighten the night
cutting through the drear.
 

Seconds tick by
Minutes
Hours

Frustrated eyes peer
Over dark sunglasses
Tattered magazines

Wasted time
Waiting
 

Flashing lights gleam overhead,
but all I see is black and red.

Another chip in, maybe three or four,
don't seem like money anymore.

Life's a gamble, this a game,
a win would give me fortune and fame.

I go all in chips weighing a ton
then it's over, he folds, I won.

Where some would take the money and run
I am invincible and have only begun.

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There is a tiny crack,
in the sidewalk near the store.
Where a little yellow flower,
is trying to grow.

I took pity on this seed
the wind had blown astray.
So I stopped by to water it
a little more each day.

In time it grew strong enough
to reach up toward the clouds.
A little spot of yellow,
on a palette of gray slabs.

So while my life goes on
I smile at it and know.
Mother Nature's proud of me,
for helping her little one grow.

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         Jim had always loved fishing, even as a little boy. He'd spend all morning getting the tackle box organized deciding which pole to use with which line and after lunch would dig up worms for bait. Exactly 4 o'clock each afternoon he'd shout, "Going to catch us some dinner!" Then be out the back door to the pond, he never came back with anything. Each evening he'd be home when I was putting our real dinner on the table and say, "Yeah, caught a whopper. But I just couldn't kill him, I had to let him go." I always smiled and said, "Well I'm sure the fish is grateful to you." Knowing how much he loved to eat fresh fish, I was sure all that was nibbling his hooks was the minnows in the pond. I thought this was just a childish game he played and when it stayed with him through his teen years I began to get tired of it.

         "Now Jim," I told him one day. "I know you aren't really catching a huge fish every night in our tiny pond. This was a nice game when you were young but your too old for this stuff. Besides, if you really want to help me with dinner how about you stay home and set the table tonight?" Apparently this was not at all what I should have been saying to him. He immediately was put on the defense and told me that he was going to prove that there were bigger fish in our pond. And so at 4 o'clock that afternoon just like always he set out to "catch our dinner," this time armed with a camera as well. I just rolled my eyes and put some water on the stove to boil for pasta, tonight we'd have it out and this cycle of avoiding work would stop. Just as I was preparing meatballs for the sauce I heard Jim running up the back porch. He came in the house waving a not-quite-dry snapshot in my face and talking a mile a minute.

         "Now hold on," I said. "Just let me have a look at it." So shocked was I when the picture cleared and it revealed Jim cradling a huge fish in his arms.

         "See! I told you," he exclaimed proudly. "I told you I was catching a big fish down there! I named him Monty and every day I catch him and throw him back in."

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A picture perfect landscape, save the golf balls that now stood on the plateau. What is happening to this world? No longer can nature provide the beauty on it's own. It must be changed, modified, made useful. Trees give way to skyscrapers, caves to buildings, meadows to parking lots, and the animals must now make way for people. Aye, it is all about people now. What we need, what we want. People are the new king, the lion gives up his throne. There is no more jungle, and people will rule the world.

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I am a tiger,
stretched in the sun.
He lays beside me
a friend has come.

I can be gentle,
believe it or not.
I will not hurt him
won't touch a spot.

Fear not I ask
for if your calm.
I'll lay beside you
and protect your young.

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Looking at the old photo calmed the butterflies in my stomach. I looked at the clock, just 15 more minutes, then it would be over. I looked at the photo again, the man who stared back was old and wrinkled, not at all like I remembered him to be. And yet I still saw the love in his eyes, a glance at the clock, 13 minutes. Gosh how slow time went these days. Soon I'd see him again though, then the waiting would be over. The pain will vanish, and I'll be with my love again. I wonder what we could do now what it will be like. Five minutes. Time went so slowly in this world, so slowly it seems, when you're waiting to die.

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