rd king DOT net : In California

In California

Summer Weather


The sky broke into white, poorly defined edges
where it complied with the horizon and
the run of low hills across the river.
Yet it passed easily through the windshield
and seemed of no real concern to us.
It was very warm.  It was dry
and still except for the tiny shouts
that raced up out of the distance.
The dusty whirlwinds raised by the autos
were forgivable on the narrow twist
and curl to the swimming beach.
Young girls with brown skin got in
and out of car doors; they walked
in the low weeds along the roadside.
They laughed and went giddy for each other
among the brown glass bottles and round
angel mouths in California.  In pairs
the men carried polyurethane coolers,
children, and their cigarettes.  In pairs
the men played catch with a softball.
Saliva dripped from long, pink,
canine tongues; heat rising from the blacktop
rose to window level.  It danced
upon the gathered engines and made
the glimpse we caught of faces peering
through the tinted windshields of road vans
and souped-up Chevrolets and Chevy trucks
seem nightmarish and mutant.

The painted island we left the car on
was already submerged with other cars.
Were these refugees we joined
in their burdened march to the beach?
But the beach was too hot and the beach
was too crowded:  we sat in the shade
of some oak trees, too hot to swim,
too hot to eat, finally too hot to drink
any more beer.  It was useless.
And the cool water was only yards away
from the soles on our dirty feet.

It was infallibly present for us both:
this odd sort of alluring brilliance
that caught as a small pain in our eyes:
something which looked like
an accurate delineation of the afternoon
seemed content in being visible
only to us.  And we wanted to leave, to begin
going home.  Perhaps we wanted to do
whatever might end or at least diminish
the lurid entertainment that was slowly
becoming narcotic in our eyes.
The young girls in their bikinis
looked neither willing nor unwilling.
The speedboats rattled their bronchial engines
while on the beach an assortment
of young men grew older
or rolled over to scratch their testes.
Little boys hunted garter snakes
in the lulling heat.
The river glistened.

It was slippery stuff:  when the skier fell
a red flag rose out of the speedboat.




 
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Collected Poetry

In California

Summer Weather
