Salt on the Sea

We complain about people when they’re here,
never knowing when it might be the last time
that we see them; then we start to miss
the very things that we used to complain about.
We complain about coworkers
and then they quit.
We complain about relatives
and then they die.
We complain about lovers
and then they leave.
We complain about everyone that we can get
our greedy paws of judgment on
and talk about them behind their backs
with pretend smiles when they turn around,
but the moment their back is turned on us for good
our faces are overcome with real frowns.
“He is so annoying when he”
“She is so obnoxious how she”
“They are such a bother when they”
then they are gone, and life moves along,
and we carry on as they sing their swan song.
Isn’t it funny how miserable we as a people are?
Isn’t it tragic how miserable we as a people are?
I hope the people who complain about me now
keep complaining about me as they look at the ocean
and see my ashes floating by them like salt on the sea,
because salty people have never really mattered to me.
I find beauty in small things and comfort in rain,
and of the people I know I try not to complain.