I eat pea pods and carrots and hard boiled eggs for breakfast while a milky blue ocean rolls and roars in the distance.
I sit cross legged on the beach. Odd, I haven’t sat that way in years.
A few minutes ago, I laughed at some of the randy messages left in the forts. Forts do that to some people. Someone even drew a picture of his prodigious genitalia and claimed it was to scale.
A woman walks the wrack line alone. She’s beachcombing in black platform shoes and wearing sunglasses.
Walmart opened in Warrenton yesterday. The giddyness is palpable. Strange that giddyness is a precursor to a death rattle.
Three gulls fly overhead.
Barn swallows dive bomb the fort.
Waves wallop the jetty.
Here comes a Coast Guard helicopter on its routine patrol.
Here come geese!
A lone fishing boat undulates out to sea.
I’m learning to play “Vacation” by the Go Go’s on the guitar that my attorney bought me on a snowy afternoon when I still believed in justice. I love this song. There’s a lot more in it than vacation.
I keep thinking of that hummingbird I saw fly through fire. I can’t get the image out of mind. Why try? This moment feels like a five-page children’s book. One copy.
Piles of dead kelp rot on the sand. I love watching adults jump rope with dead kelp. I love when kids lash each other with kelp. I once played in a rock band called Servants of the Kelp. We played one song and then broke up.
Black and white clouds collide in a bright blue sky. The collision creates a heretofore unseen shade of gray. I am the only one to see it.
Is this a poem?