Always a step or two behind the slant of violet tides where even now you cultivate the rust of dreams

The fact of the water’s
edge
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the point & click corpus deliciti easily dazzled
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(PAINTED luminous
                                                but tilted
              Aztec steps
              buried under-
              water
                              the sky
                                                & the shore
of a certain age
              comparable
                                                Desire as perhaps the way
                                                she literally walks
rendering the lyric equivalent
                              I suppose the pavement in
front of Taqueria Las Palmas
                                                                begins & ends
                              as the tide measures
the difference
              which between the two
is all that matters