Surfacing beneath the pipes

Everything you can’t remember equals everything
you can’t forget
strumming those mile long shadows
in the poorly dubbed kung fu movie
now playing on every screen in the cranial cineplex
& I’m trying to find some way to reply in the dialect of sea shells
already sworn to True Hollywood Fiction
& the pavement that stretches from the Inland Empire to
Venice Beach
must have it’s own memories to deal with
                              Kuan-yin in ocean mist
Our Lady of Wet Sand             & the dance she did
when no one was looking
              is similar to that performed by palm trees
swaying in the wind