A tan elephant sits

across from me

in the distance

Wind sprays the buds

of a tree there is a

Strumming beneath

my ankles I imbibe it

The mountain on the

other side of my life

Is playing double Dutch

with the clouds

They are a postcard

with white spray

paint dabbled on top.

High like

a young girl’s breasts

And untrustworthy

like the lies she tells herself

The wind walks over

to me and covers me with a

Sheet like I have fallen

into the net of God

During a church service

kicking and shouting

And wailing are the

strings

of moss hanging on the

rocks that the earth spit up.

I am here prostrating

to the Bowels of this

blue bowling ball each

moment something new.

Strangers with terra cotta

skin and black brains

welcome me to the shore,

but I stay back-something

about a passage. They

trick us- sea seduction

time and time again.

She wears different color

dresses, singing the same

song, the wave. I will go

later when she has

calmed down and the

man isn’t waiting there.

The geckos play with

each other sneaking

glances and winks, begging

to take us for a ride to

the back side of the

mountain where the

fairies ride on carpets

and fan our kind with ponytails

made of silver. The men

on that side are a wonder,

skin totally green from being

covered with the bounty

of the earth. I see

them from way over

here on my chair,

and they know I have

come just for them.