La Jolla At Day
A couple embraces on the large flat rock.
She in pink and gray, he in blue slacks
And grey sweater. They lay wrapped
Arm in arm about one another.
They kiss passionately as waves crash
A short distance below. An old biplane
Slowly tears through the sky above.
People stroll the walkway along the shore.
Now she caresses his brown thinning head
And he draws his hand in slow circles
Across her shoulder blade and back –
To rib cage and breast. The waves
Swell and heave as passionate as they.
The tops of the waves turn white and
Curl over upon themselves, as if to play
Steady swirl and spray in time
With their hearts beating.
La Jolla At Night
From here, the shore wraps
Half way around the Pacific.
A faint white single light marks
The farthest point. From there,
An arc of bright, twinkling lights
Fill the low night sky,
Merging on the horizon into
A soft gray glow.
Directly ahead, palm treetop
Silhouettes, like ink spots, rise
Well above the buildings.
Here too, the lights from shaded
Windows scattered about bathe
The night in a soft yellow calm
That soothes the occasional souls
A door slams shut and
Along the shore.
July 3, 1999