coming home from the beach (impossible)

i left the ocean
crashing pulling, so
oblivious, and i
dragged my wreck of
salt and hair and
said goodbye to the
grains and shells
the jellies,
surfers skaters punk kids
drove out thinking, one
child builds a fortress and
guards it with her life
while the other runs
with knowledge that high
tides will always win…
left driving
with “flashback weather classic rock”
and tried to set in motion:
the impossible comes to life.

like an 84-year old chord

gentle rub rub
of the dock
trees sway
oh that cityfied night sky,
all purple
and lit from within,

beyond that
one year dusted, it
shivers neon, reminding.
“Rusty Scupper

      when i had but
      change in my pocket
      when i had but
      blues on my side….

around, and out
B.B. King
and Lucille
“the thrill is gone
the thrill is gone away.”

then. clapping.

echoes the air like an
84-year old chord.

family resemblance

sometimes i look at pictures
and i study the faces to see
who has what nose
and who has
what smile
sometimes i look
just to say hi all you
relatives who
line my face with genes
and past choices
sometimes i look at pictures
to witness
how much has changed –

sometimes how little…
as if my face
was made in stone.

[AND btw… on a different topic, way to go team USA world cup soccer!!]