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

Still strolling.

A door slams shut and

Waves rumble

Along the shore.

July 3, 1999