Apo Calypso

Watched the sun rise
thru the tangled branches of
a rotting palm tree
at the bottom of a rain
puddle
              the deep blue sea is turning green
              or gray
                              with rusty chrome highlights
              straight out of the Book of Job
& the wind whispers “let us pray”
but why & what for I
couldn’t say
                              staggering out into the damp
              carrying a surfboard & a wetsuit
                                                & with a flock of epileptic
                              butterflies in my gut
knelt down right there
on the bloodstained Tijuana pavement
but then God
              (a known alcoholic with a criminal record
& a pink hat)
                              was nowhere to be found