A long wave weaved through my hair
in the last dying breaths of day.
The tangerine sun tickled the horizon with rays
of intolerable fragility,
sinking with the light into the sea.
White birds danced with brown bulls
on black sinking sand to the tune
of Bob Dylan’s Mr. Tambourine man,
but he didn’t play for me.
It was the last day of the world
and we all knew it was coming
but we didn’t know it’d be so soon
we didn’t know it’d be so god damned soon.
So I swam in the sea as the last light of the last day
descended into the void of darkened eternity and I was
washed away as the long waves weaved though my hair
as Dob Dylan’s Mr. Tambourine man
played like a million symphonies convening
over the coastline
playing for all of us
daring us to dream
when there was nothing else to do,
as God slept in a hammock in Tangiers
sipping Pina Coladas.
