Midday Coastal Postcards

Underneath the weight of the pixelated time bombs being juggled from on high.

Steam bellows from within lungs ancient as the divisions parlayed amongst us ripples into sand.

 Tides calmed on queue as the napes of our curiosity also bid us a salut.

Someone calls from the midnight cloaked in a thousand shadows that stark in the mid-day moon covering nothing as it forgets our names pitching it's fork to the sun and the stars.

We search the faces as they melt in laughter along the gutters that bid themselves salut as the beggars that seek alienation fold over and over always contortion in creature fear that fogs the glass as they melt into the nigh.

Rabid calls for demands unceasing.

Calling for passage as we step onto boats to the sky.

But I am not too scared to look back and look them in the dying embers as they scab over feeling the same as they always felt. 

Someone calls from the night.

The lines are disconnected,

Language barriers cackle.

Sails to the wind.

Straight on till morning.