Fred

A lonely soul slouches on the empty beach

rust coated ships keep far out of reach

by the fish swells the soul smells salty air

distant sufers seem not to have a care

he tiptoes along peering at the burned black hills

waves crash louder forced by invisible windmills

the lonely soul can’t sleep but takes a sandy seat

streaked blue waves resemble old alley streets

drift wood artists eat tacos and beer with lime

pier fishers hold spinning rods that do shine

California ghost pirates sail slowly out of view

evening has come but the soul still sings the blues

 

Black Night Sea Air

shoreline rushing fast and the hotel lights a spot

on the beach and flickers yellow

night birds awaken and sing to the empty

puddles forming around a green eddy

broken picnic table lays on its back draped

with a spiderweb of seaweed

on the black air dances a thought stream

of adventure, lies and afterlife

Christmas time and the radio plays carols

from the hotel bar amid outdoor smokers

baseball players kaoke Santana and when the chorus

sounds the night air moves closer

kin folks walk along the beach front and turn

their heads to a car horn on the bridge

midnight chimes and dancers arrive with

beer and tequila to regale the air

deep in the night a siren wails of trouble

alerting a pair of seals who dive farther out

ships bring the sun and a new air but the night

air will return when it is time

 

Curious About Beach Squirrels

there they are and half as big

creamish in color watch them dig

so far out of character and natural nest

down among the sand paws on his chest

dozens and more running free

birds avoid and wade into the sea

small in size with large brown eyes

nibbling on sea weed under cloudy skies

like unicorns and things that suprise

maybe they can talk and also fly

we said goodbye and later down the line

I still wonder if this was a sign?