Meat Pie in Paradise

The pier was all lit up like
Mortuary Day
the word on the street was
strung out along insect balconies
like drifting sand in the Paleolithic diorama
in your head
                              & the light in the palm trees scorched by
precious tears the color of Chapultepec
in the rain
              The rocking hips, the dark, the
long lost field of poppies in thumbprint neon
                              never so gently
                                                the other side of the beach
along with the cosmic convergence of 10,000 seagulls
& you behind the wheel of a darkwater Chevy
              a case of Tecate in the back seat & enough gas to
make it half way there