Like it never happened

Shooting the pier
Flow measure, underwater acoustics,
the freight train blues (“we was ethereal”)

Add 10 more levels & a vert ramp made of bone
as perhaps the inside of the skull would be the
perfect bowl section

All your visionary accessories
relayed along the rusty curve of sunset
like a convoy of razor-pink flamingos
& stolen hubcaps

Everything else crumbles
in the crush of gray-green avalanche
ocean landslide thunder
on the darkened sand
one more time

Live from the Impact Zone
just spit the blood in the sink