Several
possibilities come to mind. Tack them to the Mexican voodoo shrine. The Year of the Black Tar Horse, for
example. But the blue agave sky, no one
voice can encompass or describe. The
rapid lid of the tide extends the thunder of hooves later translated by
eucalyptus leaves & shipped by mule to 1211 Venice Blvd. Estimated delivery date February 4,
1956.
There
was the bottle of tequila, not half empty nor half full, just half there, like
the rest of us. The light was golden
& you could fold it up & take it with you when it was time to go. Broken sea shells, yellow weeds, the rattling
dead thistle. Sun-dazzle. The seething tide / wave-break foam. Proteus to Kanaloa.
The
horse might have been an appaloosa but it was hard to tell because we were
looking into the sun. Several
possibilities come to mind. You leave
them on the sand for someone else to find. Your heart is a framed portrait of the wind
riding in on a southwest swell, I said, & your eyes are windows left open
in the rain.
