Kon Tiki & the 99th Wave


dishing out the zeroes

at twilight

w/sapphire inverted skies

crashing down over the

Shell Station


maybe on the corner of Ocean & Rose


bastard palm trees marooned in a kind of

byzantine collage mosaic


like Jesus in a sharkskin suit leaning

into the light


realms of gold

under ideal conditions

peeling back rainpudles to find dollar signs


& the sun’s laying on the horizon bleeding

a rose-colored neon that’s

starting to rust