seagull, sunshine, Mayakovsky
in a Hawaiian shirt
at
85 mph you’re
thistledown
drifting
across the highway
horses
re-assemble their dreams
spooked by the
eucalyptus
rocking with the wind
clouds so low
it’s difficult to keep yourself from
reaching up
to touch them
the way I reach out to
touch her cheek
every time I run a red
light
palm
trees, parkinglots it’s
all a blur
My wooden eyes were carved for her
draining
the color from telepathic neons
shattered in the rush of
the tide
as
we weigh the temporary cure
&
the finder’s fee
beneath a sun that has stalled out
now
just inches
above the dark
corrugated sea
