Flight

Grade 12 winner
Lincoln Welsh
Teacher: Ms. McCachen, St. Michaels University School

What if we were seagulls? What if we could soar above the waves? Our friends , your brother, my cousin Vicky Would be a million miles below, And we’d scream at them, “Ha!” But, with our seagull voices, it would Sound more like, “Pour quoi?!” and they’d be totally confused. (Are seagulls French or something?) How they would sob, driven mad with envy! They’d update their Facebook with :-) ‘s and sad lyrics And whenever they lifted their faces to the sapphire skies, To see our white feathers dancing with the clouds, They’d shed a quiet tear. But not us. If we were seagulls, we could swoop down at old ladies and make them shriek “Oh mylanta!” and come down with the vapours (Whatever those are) And then we could peck and Screech and scream and snatch At Mark, that jerk who threw my homework In the compost last year. In fact, if we were seagulls, we’d throw ALL of our homework in the compost (and probably eat it too) And maybe get our heads stuck in those plastic six pack rings like those birds you see on CBC That make you say, “Oh, the poor thing.” And then you Get all sentimental whenever you see that commercial Where they’re washing the duck with dishsoap and I always wondered if the dishsoap got in their eyes But then I remember that ducks have a second eyelid. But we are seagulls, not ducks, So let’s not swim in any oil spills. If we were seagulls, we could flap high above the city And see it laid out before us, a twisting labyrinth Like those mazes we got in grade three That you’d always cheat at (Dug under the wall, my ass) And everything would taste like Seattle Salty and cold, and like biscotti and turtlenecks And alternative grunge music. If we were seagulls, we’d perch on the Skytrain And see who could hold on the longest, Scrabbling desperately with bright orange flip flop feet. So, what if we were seagulls? We’d play in garbage, and I wouldn’t be failing math And Connie couldn’t rip out your hair extensions Like in that fight you had last year, And we’d be totally rad progressive seagulls With Mohawks and green pinfeathers And we’d start a re-imagination band Based off that band, Flock of Seagulls And it would be so cool. But we’re not seagulls. We’re just two kids sitting on a beach Counting ripples as we throw pebbles in the ocean.