Holding Pattern

The way the shadow of a mexican fan palm genuflects on the sand in the prevailing haze / at the edge of the haze / drizzled in turquoise in silver & rust / I was there to learn the measure, I said, lighting matches beneath the tidewater architecture & shattered pipes / the light like rosary beads spilling onto the coral reef / the engines & clawhammer guitars at Wrecking Ball Beach knocked from the loop but still staggering on the steps there tunneling all the way to China with a coke spoon / reason enough to invoke Poseidon, Thetis, Nereus, Amphitrite, various nymphs, mermaids, Sister Aimee Semple, Raymond Chandler, Thor Heyerdahl, Ensenada, plus four & a half sets of eyes that never saw you palm the origami swimming pool / welded to things like ideas / the sunset appaloosa & Venice Blvd seemed remotely possible with pearl inlay I guess as framed in memory / a gullwing blade held to the neck of the fog / the streets like the tide slipping away / & you aren’t going anywhere