Leadpipe Tango

To walk the streets of forever as they slope
down to the sea was all I wanted.
Palm leaves mumbling in the wind.
Chumash boxsprings.   Faces carved into obsidian mirrors

as if any proof was required.   Anyway you didn’t have to follow me there to read the soft sky repeating itself above & the drumshots & jangling guitars that harken & decline with knocks & pings in the terza rima.

Everything is as easy as it sounds
                              although it may result in liver disease
& while you’re looking for a way out you
                                                might want to reevaluate those
              labor intensive auditory hallucinations

reciting the uncut diamond sutra

relegated to a vicarious redemption
along the floodlit street that cuts like a wing into the
damp night air