With an unparalleled zest for life,
the bivalve mollusk spends day
after day, after day
luxuriating in a cocoon of wet sand
for thirty-five arcadian years.
Given the chance to eat,
it filters through an endless buffet
of regurgitated flora and feculence.
In through the mouth, and out
through the mouth.
Fitted with every modern convenience,
(save for a brain, eyes, and a nose)
our friend the mollusk enjoys
endless privacy and total darkness.
It never has a need for friends,
for it doesn’t know what they are.
It never has a desire for travel,
because where would it go.
If it could learn to speak,
it would utter one dismal,