What's Your Metaphor?

The wind sings Malaguena Salerosa in the cypress
like a ghost mule dragging The Cantos
70 foggy miles up the coast
                  which is Latin for "Take two aspirin
                           & call me in the morning"

A point of entry & return
minus the charm of a doubt casting its shadow upon
a working hypothesis all camera-ready like
neon scribbled into a spoonful of wet sand

but dependent upon a parallel vocabulary
& the shuffle of glass cards on the horizon
swamped out as the tide pushes in
                  tilting parking lots
                           down towards the sea

Sunbleached chrome & I told you so
wearing rose-colored goggle & a heat rash
alternate routes to the same conclusion
because it's not always merely what was said but
the shape of it that matters