PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Monday, March 15, 2010

Skull Island Garage Sale

I thought to roll up my sleeves but the light had been
encrypted.   My tattoo didn’t translate.
Five o’clock shadows were
raining down through the trees.   Cypress
I think.   Anything to take some time off the clock.
One perception bleeds into the next.   I took the
easy way out.   The pavement was still damp & darker
than I had remembered.   Down three blocks then over two
and across the vacant lot.   Looking at a distant
landscape thru a magnifying glass.   All the
heavy action was underwater.
This space in time, this focus,
                                                of articulation,
                              & where that might take you.
You’re going to need all that wasted time some day.
Back then I drove a Ford Fairlaine
              that looked like a pterodactyl
& you were just a mariachi funeral band
tuning up in my heart.