The Last Day

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.