|
| Santa Monica Pier |
| Here on our pier |
| in the evening, |
| my favorite strangers |
| furling their faces |
| in intense concentration |
| over their sinkers and lures. |
| A breeze ambles by, |
| and time doesn't matter |
| a little while longer |
| watching the waves play |
| a deepening medley |
| of purple and red. |
| Eyes linger |
| now and then on a sky |
| that's gently folding the show: |
| a letter put in its envelope |
| to be read again -- |
| tomorrow. |
| © Jon Bohrn (1999) |
