How is it time always fades
all those oceans
we've shared
the shades...
red under such Van Gogh sunsets
watching time, dreaming...
finding our years in
the slow-stars.
We lived. We laughed. We loved.
And the end is always coming
sooner than we think

(for us all)

No one needs to be Einstein
to understand that.
Take a breath,
enjoy
the ebbs and flows...

feel the beach sands in your toes;
the lifts
the night shifts
the coral hours...

(yesterday is never tomorrow)

You recall filmi fragments from the
last few times you've been
here / there...
the inner versions of Anton Corbijn's
portraits of
Mexico &/or Baja California beach souls;
the blue splashed sunset piso majado drinks
like neon ghosts
glowing fish
pixalating, fading away;
the ne plus ultra cessation
that lost sensation
of every last night.

Remembering when you visited
her South Miami beach house
for that last, lost time
how she was performing your song,
the one you wrote for her
that afternoon in Paris
listening to the rain...
airplanes above
as the ocean waves crash
below...

What your father used to say,
thinking of Castillo de San Marcos,
"the ship beached near the port"
you never understood
but it held something
the way her eyes
hold you,
all those sunsets in the Gulf...

Old footsteps wash into tidepools,
wash into the black fogs
the salt-marshes;
the credits roll.