Seahorses

A powder of yellow-tinged light dusted her cheek.   A breath could blow it all away.   I sat outside the vintage Boulderado airstream with my unforgiven friends.   Few in number but great in alcohol consumption.   Fighting the overwhelming fatigue.   Ming Fatigue.   Flailing at quatrains.   Beguiling the mile high verisimilitude.   Thin air.

Guidry with his slow eye predetermined, Dammerstun passed out on the lawn with his shirt off, the patient crystal circumspection of Lady Guidry, & Miguel, the shepherd, fending off immortality behind a pair of dark glasses he stole from Beyonce.   I was only barely there, had to check every now & again to see if I was still casting a shadow, however pale, to reassure myself that the cerveza had a place to go, to swirl & bubble down as though to quench a thirst, itself a lost cause.

“The eternal fellowship that swept unseen, flitting, fleet, against the stagelit airstream deck, elicits tears in retrospect” (as I wrote in a dark moment lifted briefly from sleep & forgotten).   Thus in the plastic orange radiance of twin cartoon seahorse barlights afixed to the silver armament of the airstream international did I rally in my own recitation of memorized poems from those long passed from us, if only to preempt the neglect a heart seeks & hides, that deeper respect so tied to strains of a continuous music.   Long before, long after.   As I thought the sublime distraction worth articulating or why push on.   The mere pursuit or intent itself held us in its sway.