Shallow waters grow
more shallow. Walking trail skirts
shrinking surfaces.

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College students with
backpacks and lattes thin out
as season closes.

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Sheriff applauds the
polite motorist. But still
writes out the ticket.

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Patches of snow dot
patches of dead grass. Morning
sun frozen in sky.

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In the land of links,
the only true hazard is
roads and trees and such.

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Smack a piñata,
remember the Alamo,
maybe tequila.

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Drawn back to the coast,
drawn back to the need for me,
drawn back to service.

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Upstanding players
swarm blackjack table with cards
dealt by bored dealer.

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The chicken salad
taunts the croissant. The pickle
gives a sour look.

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Coffee, gossip, check
e-mail, lunch hour, filing,
surf Web, pack up, leave.

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I am no robot.
I am no robot. I am
no robot. I am no …

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They drive further and
further to get away, yet
build strip malls nearby.

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The sticker gives up
its spot on the windshield but
leaves ghostly footprint.

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Used to be two kinds,
but now all type of plastics
fine for recycling.

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They saw me swinging
the world by the tail, bouncing
over a white cloud.

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