Like a Giant Microwave

All that dark turquoise spilling over
& the beach bent out of shape on the other side of the
jetty plus or minus the sharkskin wetsuit
              just as the shadow of a wrecking ball reflected
in mirror shades demolishes your lo & behold
stranded somewhere in the middle of a three day
nocturne like a light burning in the refrigerator
                                                even when the door is shut
the way steep parables in the blood
                              assume the pitch of desire
at the cobble of beachbreak foams
              & the risk implied as the dropping tide helps
speed things up like a black tar reckoning
on the pier at high noon