I pull up to the self service gas pumps,
all the clicking numbers, my windows dirty,
stuck. The gallons flowing, the gas arches
into the tank in a gush.
I look at what comes out of the hose—
diving ducks like black drips. Grebes
and cormorants unravel through the hose.
A warm belly
carries the deaths of Valdez.
Jan 24, 2018