Sick Shoes

Sick shoes

Nothing new

On the road

Out of fuel

Hold on tight

As the fever passes through

Saturday Sun

Saturday sun

Fades to a Sunday moon

All comes up

And gone too soon

Days filled with autumn fall

Upon my eyes

Not one

But all

In Plain Sight

Over the hedge

In plain view

What was stolen

Was witnessed by me

And you

No doubt cast

Over the shadow

Of memory

What happened in that

Moment in history

Will live forever

In infamy

Santa Monica Sun

Along a winding path

Paved sun-glazed cement

Baked with a hazy grey sealant

With summer shoes

Raking the rocks

Along the freckled


Sunscreen scented fragrances

Illuminating hiatus

Under the strung out

Santa Monica Sun