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Abstract

l ship and drop like an anchor to the sea.</p><p id="5dae">Life seems so full of debris. Look at all the acid rain and the crows in the purplish haze, who don't give a crap about our planet.</p><p id="f42e">I can't tell you how hungry I get when the anglers pull in their lethal net. I wish I lived in the old days when fish weren't filled with PCB.</p><p id="5a4d">But I'm an aging bird with a bum wing and don't have many miles to go. My days are numbered like everyone else, gonna end up in the dead zone from toxic shock.</p><p id="ad14">So I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bay, resting my feathery ass on a wooden rail, pecking at my tics and rashes — this environmental itch won't leave me alone.</p><p id="3ef6"><i>(The Heron attempts to whistle like Otis Redding, but there's a plastic straw stuck in his gullet.)</i></p><figure id="37a5"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*uYQnadQV1kaD-tdLmxkXjQ.jpeg"><figcaption>A Heron stuck in a deluge of trash by <a href="undefined">Mark Tulin</a></figcaption></figure><p id="81e8">© 2023 <a href="undefined">Mark Tulin</a></p><p id="d3c4">Here are two more poetic song parodies by Mark:</p>

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<div id="6c62" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/hey-hey-were-the-honkees-a871b2964233"> <div> <div> <h2>Hey, Hey, We're the Honkees</h2> <div><h3>And we have something offensive to say</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*xfbayZ0dsrdgXctAZ8YHOg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="12a2" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/yes-george-ive-seen-the-swine-18dd14a782fc"> <div> <div> <h2>Yes, George, I've Seen the Swine</h2> <div><h3>In response to The Beatle's song "Piggies." medium.com</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*E0Efil5zubf0EndVqa5_Kg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

SEABIRD SATIRE

Sittin' on the Dock of the Trashy Bay

A heron watchin' the polluted waters float by

A dissatisfied Black-Crowned Night-Heron. Photo by Mark Tulin

Sittin' in the polluted sky. I'll still be sittin' when the evening comes, watching the oil rigs roll in and the tar-covered seals floating downstream.

I'm a heron on the dock of the bay, watching the trash bob and weave. Don't these humans know another way? Plastic bottles and bags don't decay.

I left my perch in South Florida and flew to another coast, hoping the air in the West was cleaner, but global warming still makes me choke.

Foraging along the beach is such a waste, feeling like nothing's gonna change. All the humans remain insane, unaware of the beauty surrounding them.

Looks like I'll always fly alone. I'll probably crash into a super-yacht or fall into a trash heap from a Carnival ship and drop like an anchor to the sea.

Life seems so full of debris. Look at all the acid rain and the crows in the purplish haze, who don't give a crap about our planet.

I can't tell you how hungry I get when the anglers pull in their lethal net. I wish I lived in the old days when fish weren't filled with PCB.

But I'm an aging bird with a bum wing and don't have many miles to go. My days are numbered like everyone else, gonna end up in the dead zone from toxic shock.

So I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bay, resting my feathery ass on a wooden rail, pecking at my tics and rashes — this environmental itch won't leave me alone.

(The Heron attempts to whistle like Otis Redding, but there's a plastic straw stuck in his gullet.)

A Heron stuck in a deluge of trash by Mark Tulin