Catching Air

Breathing is a full time job
              even more so if you spend your days
diving into puddles with a speargun
                              & a 12-pack of Corona Extra
              like a pantomime Ishmael
                                                standing in line at the Moby Taco
                              wearing an Ahab t-shirt

You can always pass out behind the wheel
pop the clutch & fishtail up the coast
hold your breath until the sun sets
& scratch your name into a fender of sand

Something about the way stones breathe
              when you’re not there
aligned with the hollow myth of a future
                              that doesn’t pan out as you
              bank on an imagined history
                                                made of thick Mexican glass
                              shattered on the dark side of the heart