sky it’s pearl-colored though not as
mysterious as it should be
this time of day
photographed by Robert Frank
The unexperienced streets
seem somehow lighter than the
concrete and asphalt they’re made of
& there should be a wind but
there isn’t
The steam-driven sunset is waiting
to go to work on you
with a samurai sword & a road flare
(I suspect that only makes sense
west of the PCH)
The foam that washes across the sand seems
lit from the inside just like you
maintaining radio silence as you check to see
how much is left
like fainting Desdemona of the Andes
wading through the seaweed
& maybe the mist parts like a beaded curtain
& nothing is revealed
