Past that dog beach, those motor homes,
those kids kicking cans across the parking lot,
life guard towers, beer gardens
a gray stratus layer
fills with happiness, scrapes vapor
with an airy spoon, a sky puddle
hovers over fishermen casts
into a dream, limp lures compete
with cormorant dives, moving waves
sable suited surfers wait to ride,
their thick boards paddle into history,
to imitate the sound of whales
by rubbing the inner walls of a bath tub
to discover the world is round
like when Phoenicians observed
how ships sailed across the Mediterranean
& slowly sank, the horizon swallowed
their masts, until nothing remained.
Past silence spoken between lovers
crossing paths with a dead brown pelican,
long neck & beak curled in kelp trunks,
wings of soot, a frenzy of ants & flies
a chit chat of concrete crumples
into crushed suede sand
erodes into crisp cerulean Pacific expanse.
Past that fear to breathe.
Past that shape silence makes.
Past this hypermnesia, the sun
emerges as a long lost friend
& punches through that crowd of clouds,
a saffron beam illuminates a beach
bum, paper bag truth
wraps his thirsty lips.