The winter sun
tells its own story
The beach
sliding beneath the foam & variegated
sparkle of the
winter sea tells another
the
sound of waves crashing in a bottlecap
for
example
flickering
neon behind scarred glass
a
nun weeping at the ticket window…
Souls out of
Erebus or Bakersfield
or any given
night on Hollywood Blvd
stagger into the
spotlight
led by one who
is little more than a shadow
sketched in a
mirror
armed with a seltzer
bottle, a lead pipe,
& a Beatles
haircut
Those
sledgehammer eyes glaring beneath
thunderous
eyebrows in that dark place
&
the spiked kool-aid reflecting all of this
like
wet sand at low tide
carefully folded
like a piece of concrete
& kept close
to your heart
that we may
learn the steps & the consequence
