the beached whales were little girls

with their pig-tails & their open mouths.
what could i do but get closer? 
the sand so small beneath me. i am a whale too 
but with two legs & a bouquet of toes. 
they lay face-up ready for caskets.
dead before i got here or maybe 
they are just an installation art project.
i'm not sure & that's why i sit with them.
two girls. green plants in their hair.
lips cut up. dried blood on a nose.
i lay down too so i can be like them.
above the sky is very expensive. shiny.
gold foil wrapped clouds. i think to myself
i can't afford any of this. but i'm too tired
to make the journey home on my inflatable raft.
there are so many tolls if i want to re-enter the city.
my passport is fake. it has the image of 
a flock of sea gulls where my face should be.
the birds land on the whales. i tell them
please do not eat their flesh. not in front of me.
the birds just laugh & laugh so i laugh with them
hoping it might influence them. the birds 
just eat the whale's hair--snipping the ribbons 
of each pig-tail before gobbling the strands.
this is all very complicated. 
i don't have enough storage space left 
in my brain to understand what these whales 
are supposed to mean. i'm convinced they'e acting
so i shout at them to get up. this backfires 
& seems to make them only more dead.
have you ever noticed how disobedient 
the body is? i tell the bones not to break
& they snap in all directions. is it just me?
i have terrible luck so i take very few chances.
i decide these whales are probably getting compensated.
benefits, salary, everything i need. 
i ask them for tips on how to look like
a work of art & their eyes flutter or maybe
it was only the breeze off the water.
i should have listened to my mother 
when she said the ocean is approaching.
our house in central pennsylvania is now
a beach house. i didn't need to yearn
for anything but shelter. another storm 
is coming. i tell the whales they have had their time
being dead & now they have to decide if that
is how they want to stay. no response.
i am too tired to hoist them up & back into the water.
trying to check the time, i realize my phone
is also a whale. so are all my fingernails.
whales everywhere. a whale is something
too big for its own saving. not 'big' as in size
but 'big' as in depth & deepending. 
the continent isn't big 
but the country is. my face is a whale but
not the grass spread all over my arms.
what kind of floating is left? 
the whales are gone. i didn't notice them leave.
i feel their impressions in the sand where
they once laid. i lay down in one & it fits me
almost perfectly. i close my eyes
so i don't have to pay for the sky.