Swirling in the Tidewater

last day of summer,  the preachers are vocal
lounging on the shore, surfboards idle
sipping from tall bottles rimmed with lime and rock salt
raucous waves washing over the stones
and licking at the toes of the eternal malcontents

sundown brings the acoustic guitars
the blankets piled around cold shoulders
low voices murmur and blend with the sighs of the ocean
miles away the stars blink and shine down
illuminate the sphere of whimsical firelight

coals burn igneous, fogged images crowd inside a well drugged skull
passed out, breathing into chill rock
surrounded by the tall grasses and the hollows of shade,
memories of hazy sunlight beneath six feet of brine,
and breathing in the flood of ecstacy

hear the crying, the soughing, the sifting,
the laborious motion of infinite potions,
poured into glass that cracks and spews,
vomit monsoons, typhoon into bedrock lagoons,
daydream drinking beneath a small volcano

caught the tail of almost not here,
rode it into the shallows, standing shakily,
skin scraped clean and spread out to dry beneath the heat,
early morning birds screech and hop and pick at the sea,
hangover fades as i lay, and bake into newly formed bricks

the unknown become numbers in my phone,
as i straddle a chunk of wood and bob my head,
inside my mind i grieve with the guilt i feel,
the pleasure of being,
on this wayside shore with lonely people in random company

sunlight, sand, salt water
only if im drinking
this beach is open to broken bottles, remnants of fires
sandals carving shadows into grit
make of this place what you desire