standing at gulf’s edge, watching emerald waves roll in with the latest news, spread themselves at my feet, sediment for sandpipers, sun with an afternoon glare that sends cat paw clouds towards the horizon, where storms ring warning bells; still too far for thunder, replaced by the hungry reminder of jet engines, twin fighters that rip on high, drain the sky, ocean, celestial sand of all detail, demanding that we all tilt, send stares upwards, abandoning one another, everyone, witnessing, target locked, and sometimes it’s the graveyard that whistles past us.

# # #

in print:

Amazon.com

or for fucking free in digital

Smashwords.com

so long and thanks for all the pish.