Theme Park

Now the four water skiers careen toward the jump slab, drawn by two sleek, high-whining boats. They reach, mount, spin in the air, their skis helicoptering, as we gasp, squeeze our eyes, rise up, watch the sudden foliage of splash, then see them emerge and rush off down the lagoon, fleeing our applause, while, far across, two rhinos stand in the California dust, behind wire, not watching, refugees from the moon, who have seen it all before, and who would like a blade of grass to touch with their thick, gray lips, or a bird, to play arpeggios on the landscapes of their backs. The dignified poise of their mouths says something is definitely odd about all this.