Looking into blackness
pinpoints of light
guide the ship,
revealing semblances of whitecaps
exposing whirls and rocks,
showing the way home.

Southerly winds whip up
frenzied feelings of heat
skin salty as the sea
mind full of tidbits
from double shifting
memories blurred beyond distinction.

Monsters may lurk beneath the surface
testosteronic snakes - even a sly dragon or two,
Claws, deformed appendages,
clothed in hideous haberdashery - if at all,
slapdash illusions grab the mind
and won't let go. . . .

I walk across wooden planks.
Clouds creak apart to reveal history
- light millions of years old -
from stars that may no longer exist,
like a stripper casting off her lace negligee
to reveal a panorama of prepubescence.

Stumbling toward the abyss
malaise gives way to rapprochement
I find the keys I have been groping for,
the sorcery ceases as the car door opens. . . .
For a moment, it might have been the ocean out there,
not miles of corn stalks rustling with sardonic quiver.

- Bob Miller