Thursday, August 14, 2008

Surfing Home

The time left to us varies in value
like a Bermuda call option.
Early exercise is precisely what is meant
and not a long evening at the bar de la plage.
There’s no getting out of it.
Over eating implies a tab on the room,
a provisioning for the end,
like a an Egyptian prince stocking up
for the Underworld
at 2 a.m., having cleaned-out
the minibar. When he flies home
to Alexandria, he recovers his jellaba
from the cleaners and considers
how utterly surfless the Mediterranean is.
Somewhere between America and Europe
an accountancy principle whips-up
a wave in his Zinfandel.
Here is the divide
between what my life is worth now
and what it may be worth tomorrow.
A peak and a trough
. The crowd
spills onto the luggage belt.
It splashes over clothes and books,
and recedes, carrying all along with it…

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