I-5 at Midnight
Three miles into San Clemente, the air is salted,
drinkably humid.
Dropping 10mph without a thought,
my rental is a boat cast off in a Pirate ride.
Slowly afloat, pointing out fireflies.
Oceanside’s Late May
The sand was sultry,
baring a shoulder to summer,
spring wrapped loosely ’round, in a grip soon unheld;
but even here,
with temperate souls and tender voices cracking open,
the ocean still had April in its bones.
Las Flores View – On the El Camino Real
The coast of California crests at San Clemente,
with sagebrush and coconut,
windgusts and gulls,
and bends the sun off tilted land
like opening a briefcase full of gold.
Central Beach, Quonochauntaug, RI
The Atlantic rolls you like a sea salt bath.
Barely a wave
just an oceanic hiccup
of waters coming in from other shores
and telling you what a wonderful day they’ve had.
