SHINY OBJECT SYNDROME

 

I leave the baby in the ditch, because
Look at that newer baby on the hill.
Then, overhead, a smooth white drone outdoes
Both babies, zooming near and holding still,
Lights pulsing like a rainbow gone en fuego;
When it begins to zip away I run

To follow it, I jog and sprint like hey-go-
Mad over hill and dale, and when it’s gone

I stop and sit down. Right here on the beach.
Look. Look at how I have these genitals.
They’re here, they’re fun, they’re spellbinding, I reach
Out to touch them but just then tentacles
   Emerge and pull me under the sea’s lid,
   And I’m a shiny object for the squid.