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?