dreams of Monterey

dreams of Monterey

birds along a rock sea wall
whisper my name in salty tones
begging me to join them in flight
they do not know that my wings are tired
or that I no longer wish to soar

Steinbeck’s restless ghost pesters me
as I walk on, breathing in the killing scent of
a weathered chapel, built by native hands
that never intended to worship there but
offered up blood sweat and tears nevertheless

I stop and spin in all directions
dream of sandstone buildings damaged
by crude gunfire and the planting of flags
dream of pop festivals and artist fairs
with mild cheeses and writers arguing
about Henry Miller’s tropics

a sudden offshore breeze stirs wanderlust
tickles my toes through my shoes
and turns my feet toward the bay
I hug my arms and inhale once more
let the ocean currents speak to me

shoes and jacket and sanity discarded
my body drifts across the littered sands
toward the strange Pacific waters
that hold the key to my forbidden box
it is time for me to go home

I swim I swim I swim forever

until my limbs are numb, useless
and sink, gladly, into the canyon
smiling at the scuba divers ignoring me
while they pretend they are sea otters
frolicking in frigid waters where kelp
quivers in underwater winds

I sleep with my fellow sea stars
and all is as it should be
in old Monterey

 

Copyright © 2010 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved

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About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
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