"windows rattle and flex. it sounds a lot like sobbing- whatever they are doing. "
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Poets featured in this issue:
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Contact
Bei
Dao
The Golden Pelican Inn
wind
butts the low buildings.
coffee
cups scud in the parking lot
lodged
under a tire
a
flap of newspaper stutters.
gulls turn to face the gust.
cars
here are old, paint faded,
broken
down, overloaded.
so
are the people.
stack
exhaust from the Duke plant
clings
to the sea spray and fog.
the
wet grime coats cars,
gulls,
the peeling paint.
down
the breezeway the doors are shut.
in
each window the back of a television
pushes
faded drapes against the glass.
inside
we sleep it off, of
smoke
through the night.
a
couple goes at it upstairs
windows
rattle and flex.
it
sounds a lot like sobbing-
whatever
they are doing.
clean
rooms. HBO.
29.95
a night.
weekly
rates.
across highway one, the restless surf.
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