unfolding
inside the sound of gears grinding
a block from the beach
This is winter time on the coast
I remember walking into a brick wall of rain
in the living room
& she was there with her darkwater pearls
& Mexican silver
her eyes like shattered glass
folded into sand swept by foam
Iron pipes breaking across the reef signaled
that the wind had shifted & I realized
that the veins
on the backs of my hands
resembled a road map of Los Angeles
so I knew then that I’d never be lost
