A Penguin’s March
I am a penguin. In the desert, by myself.
I waddle along and meet two pairs of long, hairy legs. Looking up. A camel. “You got funny feet. Come walk with me”, he says. I waddle as fast as I can. But he gets out of sight soon.
After a while, near to the jungle, an ape touches down besides me with a dull thumb. Gibbering. “You got funny arms. Come climb with me”, he says. Up he shoots into the treetops. While I stand on the ground. Not knowing what to do with that tree.
I’m hungry when I meet the giraffe. “You got a funny beak. Come eat with me”, she goes. Even pulls down some leafs for me. I bite. And let it go. I don’t have teeth. Damnit.
Sighting, I stand staring into the open. When a seagull lands next to me. Pink marker around his left leg. “NO!”, I yell. “I know I have funny wings, and: NO I will NOT come fly with you!” The seagull watches me. Head tilted to the side. Curious. Then bursting into croaking laughters.
“D’you know you top 20 miles per hour, in water?”, the seagull cracks. “Dive 1800 feet deep and stay there for 20 minutes? I mean, you folks even drink salt water!” – “What are you even talking about”, I clatter.
“Dude, all I’m sayin’: sea’s just behind that hill.”
The seagull speaks quick, short sentences. Staring at me. Tells me about that sea. It’s blue, salty, wet. Lots of fish. And penguins. “Love watching you dudes slide through the water.”
I can barely hear him finish his last sentence. Waddled on. I’m almost above that hill.
I can sense the water.
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