I don�t want to die and come back as a wild penguin.
I find the penguin�s life so very sad.
I cry every time I watch penguins
Huddling in wild uneasy flocks
A few breaking away to pace and stretch and expectorate
Playing it cool to disguise the import of muttered conferrals:
Why aren�t there more of us?
Logically, going on as we could
This should be ourselves as far as we can see
Once it must have been so
All this
Instead we don�t even fill the beach.

Consolation Site: "vast wasteland"

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