Pretty Vacant

The wings of a gull like a pair of
machetes & the rain like beads like
arrows falling before the sun that
splits the clouds & levels the pier
so you can feel that gear slip
in your heart & the sky open up
blue dark with turquoise & bleeding
pink along the horizon
& in the waves so the lip of the curl
like Elvis sipping Drāno
beneath the fluoresecnt mask of sunset
becomes a narcoleptic episode for two
out where the pavement meets the sea
as in welcome to nowhere (the
transparent version