36 Chainsmoking Buddhas

I preserve the memory of things that
never happened playing a little surf
harmonica to appease the gods of the sea
on out beyond time, the throne
& respectable sleep

Maybe it was Death that rolled
that bottle under the bed & got me
all woozy thinking about thinking
& whether or not I should slash my
wrists with your aura

Something profound something
HUGE (hidden by the tide
& a 20,000 foot buzz like thirty six
chainsmoking buddhas out on the porch
just before it rained holding forth most

eloquently behind the tiki mask the
moon wears when I’m not looking