The sunlight filtering down thru a bend in the haze does a rhinestone shimmy out on the water that backpedals to Yokohama. Pelicans dive into the pavement & come up w/beaks full of hubcaps. Nothing adds up. If it ever does I might get hauled away from here in a day-glo blue velvet Cadillac El Dorado w/Eddie Poe behind the wheel & a couple cases of opium-spiked Tecate in the back seat. That kind of carelessness, it isn’t so easy to master. Standing on the steps of a more classical rendition of the same war of attrition as my smog blue eyes go blank like the slick rock of exposed tidepools, but slowly swaying like a grass skirt underwater, with hand-carved flames.
from The Varieties of Religious Experience by Kevin Opstedal