The ocean fog reads like a
Diebenkorn cheat sheet
slicing the weather
& tilting parking lots down
toward the sea
where the soundtrack’s an
instrumental for mandolin & tidal wave
A ripple thread creasing your heart
in the grip of madrigals & torch ballads
The way the wind confides in a steel guitar
shouldn’t have led you past the dazzle
The trees all lit up on whatever medicine was available
& everything you thought you knew
surrendered to a kind of tormented love I call “Snake Eyes”
but drifting as in a mist of haze
if only to to exhaust the delicate narcotic
of our perforated resolve