Conspiracy Theory

Blue sky floods the beach here
each perfect speechless afternoon
exiled to the paisley shade beneath
inevitable eucalyptus fishscale blades
where crystals grow like chevrolets

It might be worthwhile to interrogate
your own shadow which stands like the
ruins of a temple to a forgotten god
even long after you’ve gone

& I’m sipping from a bottle of sand
reaching for another seaweed cigarette
like a poem I know by heart
as the light falls & I gather myselves
from the psychosomatic air

My Uniform (from the ground up):
black low-top Converse All Stars
skater shorts (baggy)
Yater Surfboards t-shirt
St. Christopher medal
RayBan Wayfarers (black
like my heart)