Salt Ripple
One man, one ashtray
the old man with beads paints alone.
The storm passes over
Moon Child is always with him.
Mermaid's handbag
I find my cure
near the salt water medicine.
Sandpipers dance
I watch the moves,
way off Broadway.
Far away now,
from the madness of erotic politics,
I think I should never return.
Remain here
become pure again
among the thunderstorms and greensnakes.
The old man with beads
sings baritone in the showe.r.
The storms have passed over
leaving sadness
uncertainty and hope.
Ancient energy here
the moon shows up in late afternoon.
She's imitating a cloud
Foamy egg moon we hatched from
our ancient dust and rock birth sack.
-Will Dockery
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