April, 1983 -- A Slow Drive on A1A

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April, 1983 -- A Slow Drive on A1A Oceanside,

Dark morning streets yawn
at the dim light over the ocean.
Street lights flicker and neon signs fade
as the first hint of morning smiles on the water,
midnight blue sparkles, and pastels touch the sky.
Traffic lights snarl in a go, slow, stop, go
ignoring the splendor, as I slowly drive on,
glancing across the water.
Then suddenly
           time
becomes illusion, motion ceases as there
in the coral pink water framed in aquamarine
             she stands.
First a silhouette against a lavender sky,
she moves and becomes more.
Waves lick denim cutoffs and her white top
glows on tan skin. Sunlight whispers
around her hair as it flows over shoulders.
She becomes the surf, her waves roll over me,
drawing me into her, moist lips, tongue,
into the roaring tumult of timelessness.

             A car horn,
motor whir and I return: time sends me on.
As she becomes
                                       ...yesterday.