“California is a tragic country - like Palestine,
like every Promised Land.”
―Christopher Isherwood
The late afternoon wind comes in off the water
quite possibly bells
ringing somewhere
as you & I turn to stagger
back across the sand
& your soul (if it even exists
I couldn’t say if any of us for certain but
something in the air anyway
besides this damp gray compression of sunlight
reaching down to rap its knuckles against the waves
But it’s night now, nearly night
& the invocation is a rocking number
conceptually challenged
the irrevocable left unspoken as contrast
spanning the pure instruments of sunset
on a street that was named for
1000 hungry ghosts
& meanwhile no one knows us
or who we might have been
had the sun lingered just a split-
second longer
above the edge of the sea