Business

"Octopi wear flowing red gowns,"
can only be said the way it is.
"Octopi seem nonchalant in social situations,"
is the ideal if the laws of nature are in question.
Treated to the bounty of the sea, a particularly
gargantuan octopus sits down on some blue algae.

Sea anemonies nibble on flakes of dust.
The octopus squirts some urine, in imitation of a particularly vapid squid.

Brushing off responsibility, the octopus,
her red gown flowing hypnotically behind her,
wiggles over to the sand bar.
Her beak leaks sharp liquids.
It dribbles, slovenly diffusing in the great ocean, unnoticed

tiring of conventional methods of sea navigation
the octopus dons a plastic hat
swirling her tentacles like a pinwheel
smacking a few sea anemones
her powers of suction accrue a few for food for later

waiting patiently on the opposite end of the ocean,
those aquatic ocean delegation fuse bodies and play with their hairs
the octopus, not to be trifled with, has a lovely gown
the red a mercerized ocean rose
from the waves, billowing and blowing out-
the octopus practicing locomotion

rustling restlessly in wait,
the delegation lines up in 30 rows of delegate poise

as she approached
it was clear:
she, nonchalant in this situation

in her flowing red gown

would soon be much scaly flesh
and torn up cartilage
built of the happiest of delegates