Breaking

The catcher in the Bulliet,

tires in a gravel parking lot

littered with oyster shells broken

like dreams by time and regulars,

abalone crushed to dust

in a sandy soft-shoed leather-loafered

sole whispering

through time-soft sand,

Salinger seltzer for the soul,

seaside, the distant ocean

almost audible, hemming ways

from means.

Salem

(the ocean surrounding the custom house)

Charleston

(chessboard marble custom house approach)

New Orleans (bourbon) street sweepers with brushes

swirling curbs and cobbles, swishing the

in-between time

back into its cobwebby corner of Amontillado where day propositions night,

The shush of cash swapping into pockets

of time-altering parcels,

money changing hands under tables,

crisp bills on denim, distant train

chugging down tracks, buzzing bulb

of intermittent light, patterned like random tissue paper crumpled in gift bags

defiantly undefineable, mesmerizing opacity

(why can’t I hear through it?)

Listen louder, harder,

give it a six-dollar listen,

for the girl with the pearl

erring on the side of danger.

The strike of a match fizzling

Fitzgerald jazz jellybean boom

shocka-locka me up for punishment’s crime

where the green rushes hush gushing water

answers answers answers

the entire throng of world

muttering answers answers answers

while questions collapse in sand,

no land is Troy, dot of the sea.

Knock a homer around the world

in eighty days

(Poseidon tamed to low tide)

this is your captain

(O Captain! My Captain) speaking

shhhshhhshhhshhshhhh

we’re beginning

our final approach