Holy Motha Freakin Gosh

Sudan, the last male white rhino on the planet Earth has died. His two female offspring are the last to survive. His sturdy white Tufts, And thick oceans of leathery skin, Wore like that of a dino. How could we not know, Where this would go? And even when we did. Still more. Never less. We must improve, repeat, impress. Be the best? Sudan, may you rest.

He does airports well. He stands with purpose and finality. His voice stretches because it has to. Like, his life depends on it. He talks to me. Just to me. Like, Lee Harvey Oswald must've felt. In that musical about Assassins. I could dance with him singing in front of me. To a simple empty chord being almost mindlessly vamped. ‘If we hadn't spent 10 years finding it.’ He does airports well. So the planes will fly. The passengers will sit. And the birds will continue to wonder what it is that invades their God given skies.