Surfin’ with the Astronauts

for Joanne & Donald

This small beach town is big enough to get lost in
to disappear the way the fog does
(around noon)
                              & the sky leans in with its lo & behold
& the parking lot goes boom
w/the switchfoot chicken gods of the tribal
surf crew anointed by needle & ink

The Dragon in the Waves

                              The Orient Express

                                                Confucius
                                                confused us

I’ve always leaned more toward a punk taoism myself

Every day in the year condensed to
every year in a day
mockingbird, crow, seagull, starfish

Where else in the world do redwoods & palm trees thrive
side by side?

The clouds roll back in around sunset the fog
pushes the sky aside & it’s summertime on the central coast

The black lady behind the counter at the liquor store
always asks me how the surf is out there.   I don’t know her name
& she doesn’t know mine