Tapping My Inner Platypus

When I'm underwater, eyes closed
or squinted against the blur, blind
or near, hearing dimmed to murmur,

squirming, paddling, feeling my way,
a bottom feeder in the muck,
of a lake or pond or bathtub,

the image of a platypus
tends leisurely to come to mind,
and I smile when no one can see,

through a murky, amusing truth,
no more meaningful than symbol
and no less meaningless than myth.