Talking Pipes

A handful of vitamins & a beer for breakfast
              seawater, sand & motor oil for lunch
                                                I don’t remember if I had any dinner
                              I don’t remember how Ezra’s IVth canto ends
but the palm tree still bends beneath the weight
              of all that ocean colored haze as I
hide my eyes behind bloodshot RayBans
                              trying to decide whether I should
crawl beneath a rock or hop in the Ranchero
                                                & floor it all the way back to Venice
                              in reverse
                                                                A last meal on the bottom of a
swimming pool, everything went turquoise, & the next
thing I knew it was Roman Polanski Day
              veering away from your discordant shadow
& the puddle of bourbon pinned to your negligee...
                              300 miles later we bought some tacos
it was Tuesday, or something,
              & I hadn’t eaten in a year