Tuesday, January 1, 2013

The Golden State

She said she left God
tied to a kitchen chair
in Tijuana
& who was I to question that assertion
The sun sank into the waves as always
& the night rose as always from those same waves
having learned all the prophetic songs
reworked into rhythm & blues
with a sound that was dark like silver
& I can feel it even now
racing through my veins
We slept on a stone floor in El Rosario
awakened in the dark by the thunder of the surf
The wings she sprouted every night while she slept
disappeared at dawn
She was a day crossed off the Mayan calendar
& I was staggering across the wet sand
shedding fish scales that
glittered like silver coins in the mist
I found her chemical attributes enticing
& she offered me a spoonful
The first one’s free but I’m seeing double
& inside fish tank auras & the distinct rattling of shadows
one rain drop per diem
For every door that opens, she said, another closes
as in a biblical remix her green lipstick & deep
burgundy nail polish an homage to the blood of
martyrs that have yet to be born
to follow in the footsteps of her sisters
transformed into iguanas as she speaks of them
We hit the road for Malibu or Damascus I
can’t remember exactly which
a pharmacy in Chinatown, fish tacos in a parking lot
near the beach
where we watched the gulls in flight turn silver
as the burnt turquoise sky
plunged into the sea