what are the newport kids up to tonight? i don't know.
i passed him on the way out of the ocean, going surfing
coming and going from the sea,
(this is how we meet)
the hamlet, the hovel, the neighborhood path--
"how are you doing?"
"i am sad"
"maybe later we can walk on the beach, drink tea, talk"
and so the the rhythm of days moves us forward, brothers
we are travellers on earth, together
few of us, hunkering down together in this little village
fishing, surfing, dying on the shore
holding one another when the days begin to shorten
drivers, passengers, walkers, fire builders
you, going into the salal brush at 1:00 am
looking for her dog, chased away by fireworks
he, barefoot, legs bleeding from scratches
she, angry in a small cabin, jealously driving friends away
mother, closing doors, wishing for more dreams
a heart attack, a fight, deep night,
asleep on the beach, waking up to candles still burning,
early morning surfers already getting out of the ocean, going to work
fog, heavy now for days,
ocean glass, oily soft, perfect waves,
ever-giving, every day sacraments
the saline, the smell of starfish in our nostrils,
the reasons we live here, at the edge of the continent:
the edge of the world.