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Poetry

(rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

American Summer

Poems written while traveling.

El Camino Real 


The shelling has stopped at Camp Pendleton.
The sign lights up at the Algodon Motel.

After 5pm the county bus passes once
each hour.  Friday evening, blank faces

at the bus stops.  Traffic gradually thins
and it grows dark on the main avenue.

By six, marines with thick necks
fill the counter at the Halfway House Cafe.

They lean against the dark red tiles
at Stan's Liquor.  A small group gathers

while a joint is shared on the sidewalk
between Luigi's Pizza and a palm tree.

The cops pass.  The surfers keep
to their skateboards.  The old men,

the trios of blacks, slip into little bars.
Music drifts from the jukebox.  By nine

there are lines at the Greyhound station.
Pinballs carom off bumpers.  There is time

to be wasted as they wait to use the ticket
and vanish toward a bigger town.




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