I saw a school of tuna and it nearly turned my head 6 tons of fabricated glass gave on to worlds I’d never dreamed what is the lowly tuna but a cousin of the trout a shadow on a fishing line a bum in the Atlantic stream a darkened crowded chamber turned my wondering to grief this slow gyrating metal as an office worker’s stale repast the sudden burst of Seeing turned this throng of tourists mute a terrible surprise that left the larger number all aghast that’s an effing tuna came the outrage from the mob their expectations turned aside their hierarchies turned to mud a godlike crowd of bluefin turned a dervish in the blue an unrequited dynamo a souvenir to stun the blood we wander and we wonder and infrequently we kneel I saw a school of tuna and it nearly turned my sorry head this velveteen conspiracy transfigures all we Know a fleet of silver volkwagens which God has turned to sandwich spread.
