DRUNK IN L. A.

"In the wet sand, flowers are unnecessary and doomed: you 
give them up to the tides." -Scott Nichols 4.20.98

I had my share of alcohol and with it came 
the dreams and melancholy 
of a poet and artist at the same time.  
The salty winds of the moon breathed 
behind my ear and the starlight
Stole my cheek for a kiss.
The moist grass cleaned my chest,
Brought a parallel feeling of sobriety and drunk.
"Are you under the influence?" he said pointing 
The light from his flashlight into my eyes.
"Yes!" I said.  "The influence! Yes!"
Out there I can see the bee dreaming
Of a sunflower 
The sunflower dreaming about the pollen,
The moth and the spider passing each other
But camouflaged, not seeing the other.
The birds sleeping dreaming 
About a recital and song that you're writing
And through this, because of this, 
He is sitting at a bus stop, waiting
For a bus that won't come, but he writes a poem 
And because the driver is at home asleep
He lies with thoughts of you, and you,
And the bee. 
The nine dollar cigar, the smoke that he sees,
Through a window, of an apartment of  The Couple. 
"Make fuck not war"
The sober drunk yells,
The waves imagining the taste 
Of the salt of the shore of the love 
That is trapped by the thoughts
Of the waves that crash and die
With the boat that pierces 
Through,
I lose vision and now heart and now thoughts 
But as I'm carried away I see you 
through the window waving goodbye,
And I miss you.