We can’t live in the present forever

The pressure of tides
                                                an iridescence
              ocean sunset in a trance

You sing I
count syllables
                              the air just flips
                              & dies

& in the distance maybe you can see
Rip van Heyerdahl
                              on the deck of the
                                                sinking whaleboat Kon Tiki
              signaling with a flashlight

The streets here all detour to the land of Nod
              or simply evaporate
either way returning us to the one true original premise
                              from which there is no escape