“Open your hands,” says Dad, so I do,
and he puts about twenty seashells in them.
“Found those up by the jetty” he says;
“I’m sorry if they’re not very good.”
I throw them one by one toward the sea,
and pigeons gather, thinking they’re bread.
Pigeons are almost as dumb as my dad.
Haha, he’s actually not that bad.
• • •
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