Under the larches and lark shit
and the woo they lay down —
a canopy of bad ideas and chuffed promises —
Bethany slept and Paul counted
the things he wanted to do
before he died.
Bethany the heart, Paul the vein.
Like Chinese beryl or blastomeres,
they’re cleft and uncleft, twins who mimic
twinning. They make everything
that they believe.
Bethany the anchor, Paul the chain.
After dark, they unfurl and slide
into town. Paul prongs oysters
onto her dusty tongue, and she
chirps and licks him clean.
Bethany the memory, Paul the stain.
Monthly Archives: January 2015
This is then, when they stepped out, right ?
down the steps from the hotel to the Aubergine –
more like black bruise colored,
the concrete ramp they call the Aubergine
to make being old or in a chair not stink –
and across the Checkerboard –
the regular boardwalk painted black and white
so getting to the sand is a game not a drag –
and to the sand. Before this is when
they were in their room for two days
only some steps and the Aubergine
and the Checkerboard away from the sea.
This is after the fight at El Patio
and the fire and the red tag on the door –
so you know you can’t live there anymore –
after the first hotel in Carlsbad –
this is Laguna, right ? this is when we freaked
and didn’t know if they were in jail
or in TJ or they killed each other,
which she did, him, when they stepped out
and down onto the cool blue gray sundown sand
after two days in that room with a rock
she picked up on The Aubergine
and the hotel said their room was really clean
and the bed was still made.