And then they were upon us

I can feel what’s left of my brain
rattling like small change
in a beggar’s cup
the chill of a dying summer in the air
sea tangle, smoke, maybe wings
twisting in the grip of the tide
dark hollows, salt cold water, waves, plumes
you had that “let’s get hammered” look in your eyes
              a moderate southwest swell
                              turning to glass when the wind shifts
& a skeleton hand reaches in
              offering you a bite-size morsel of concrete
                                                the first one’s free but I’m seeing double
skidding past a blessed yet
                                                                sleazy euphoria
                              whenever you tiptoe through the tidepool
hung up in the middle of the wrong
                                                                              audio mixology
as fog drops the shade on a flawless wave
                              on the way to something humongous