Looking into my eyes I bet you’d be thinking
that I was once a bright lad
Beacons of a blue horizon, I never wore
sun glasses
I didn’t blink that often either and when I
slept my R.E.M. offered a form of semaphore
for insomniacs because there was always
someone lost
On the ocean of life where sterns wake the
watery ways
Pacific gestures wave a passing before
closing the crease of our intrusion.