Walking the Plank

Only a few blocks from the pier
you find yrself on a street in Tangiers
& around the corner you’re back
in Santa Cruz
wondering what happened & what
language those robed women
were speaking

moonlight misunderstood
beneath the plastic canopy

Drift a while on your way then
            living or dying
                        once is enough

hear bronze pages turning
subtle change in phrasing
underwater
                        coral blossom
burnt neon

pledged to a random, accidental magic only
as that which most often goes
unnoticed & so changes everything
you thought you knew