A Ripple Trail of Maybe Neon Fading

Empty parking lots           fjords
& a history of violence
contrary to the haze           (my legacy)
with mudslide tremors & gaited horses
that rustle like palm leaves against
the ravished pertinence of so many
bronze wings slashing the sky behind you
like a kamikaze hood ornament

The shattered chrome drainage
mirrored on air
ripples the mainline stem
to float the memory
your reflection on the surface of a burnt
spoon like the face of Jesus on a tortilla
with redwood stringers glassed in
& diesel sand driven beneath the foam

begging indulgence without vows or refuge
sinking deep into the underwater pavement
dissolving pearls in gasoline
to justify your margins
betrayed by space & time
the random apprehension where sea meets sky
in the pretense & the vapor
to reconcile the distance

& the time it takes
steeped in heavy breathing
designed to lull you past the coma
dragging stunned wings through a sky of
crushed glass & tide pool silhouettes
excluding the fish-bone tuning fork
halo effect staining your eyes your
hesitations

to reconvene a last finger of cypress
all parlance & midnight
murmuring in the shadow palms
like a feather of concrete
crumbling into the sea