This tiny town perches on the hillside of a bay

surveying calm waters, seals and cormorants.

Not like a vulture or anything so worrisome
more like a mildly interested spectator
sitting on rocky bleachers
munching idly on some kind of snack bought from a passing hawker

I wandered the sidewalk
with the onshore breeze kicking up the wreckage of a sunny day.

The sun just then dipped below the fir trees that ring this place.
Chilling my arms almost to discomfort.

Those trees ride on the crest of the mountain above me
sillhouetted by yellow and orange cloud-bellies
darkness smoothing out the intricate jungle that flows beneath them

Moss
rotting windfalls
matted duff of fir needles

I can smell the mustiness and tang of sap in the stiffening evening breeze

The detrius of an early summer day blows past now.
Ice cream wrappers, sand and Mcdonald's garbage dances and skids past my feet.
They pirhouette and curtsey in invisible whirlpools

scratching along until tangled in rest.

Oldsters
walking their yappy little dogs on those retractable leads
winding around telephoe poles as they sniff the pissings of others
leaving their own tiny wet billboards behind.

Their claws ticking along ahead of their doddering attendants, having long ago replaced the children

Ma and Pa watch the sky darken and peruse the menu of a sidewalk vendor. Creased in frowns and discussions,
negotiatons

Settled with sighs and endless questions of teenage staff in aprons
with folded paper hats
leaning on serving windowsills
smiling
but wishing they could just kill themselves they're so fucking bored.

Fish and chips are too rich nowadays
maybe the coleslaw?

Time to go back to the RV anyway

Our show's on in half an hour.
 
 
 
 

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