two maybe three times a day the
wave
crashes on the surfer but he's
ready
he's seen the tide he's breathed
it
he's drank it and got it all bubbled
up
in his stomach like me with two
feet
on dry land but at least he's in
halfpipe
dreamland dancing the earthtime
groove
at least he knows what he's in
for
i'll just slalom down this beach
in
my petty thematic way and i'll
kick
over the sandcastles in protest
of
this prima nocta glassdust.