The sun rising
over the ridge as I
stagger back across the
beach & sandy pavement
my board under my left
arm my body sheathed in
black ripcurl neoprene
dripping wet
A hungry ghost wearing
some kind of heavy duty
Bodidharma headgear
approaches
he’s got a snarling 2-headed
pit bull on a leash
Life is short & I know
there are no answers
in this confluence
& as he passes he says
“Nice Ranchero, dude”
I took it as a gratuitous
blessing & bestowed upon him
the mystic hang-loose mudra
as he turned the corner
& disappeared
into the early morning mist