Sound Waves & Traction

Inside this often
    variegated surf ghetto
the pale shadow I cast will
    repudiate any claim to
the wingless per diem

looking back thru the redolent
    haze sustained by your tears
my smoke & the disposable needles
    of the Incas         quick eyes
beneath the pavement & the
    narcoleptic lullaby implied by fingers
tapping on the lid of the tide

I never planned to be here so
    fucking long never read the small
print never heard the warning bell
    in the underwater diorama at lights out

echoing long before it struck
    humming in the wires strummed
by an ocean breeze