The clouds lay flat
against the western
sky like shadows
clinging to a brick
wall which from
here resembles the warped
pages of a
water-
damaged book
the inscription illegible
a
map of veins that have burst within the
suicide
morning glories
cascading
around your shoulders
You gave them
away as if anyone could
along w/the
signature bump & grind that made the
coastline easy
to understand
but difficult to
pin down
whispering
the way it sometimes does
in
the heart’s house
as though it was the first time
& I’m
bending like a blade of sand
against the late
& early fogmist
w/the
steel drum song of El Pacifico
piped in thru
the tide
darker
than yr eyes
