The ascending mid-Pacific ocean

Waves a world of sunscreen

Over day’s evaporation,

Muted, European,


What tourists take away

From Portofino: a pastel, textured sea,

Like a terra cotta Capri vase

From the Godard film Le Mepris,


Where that trademark diesel haze

(Or maybe it’s just body heat)

Transfigures cities, skylines, coasts

With the heavy silver mist of Crete,


Making bathers there own ghosts,

Discolored like the past - where the future,

Usually so present on the shore,

Is fossilized by summer blur,


That linen, pavement-shimmer war

That sun obscures with glummer, glaze, and glare:

All the destiny that horizons dare.


Tropics Bar


May 23rd, 2012