POST POSTERITY

night apologizes
for an Apollo
of a poet
the sexiest
and youngest
life guard
on the beach
waves us on
in his white
Russian blouse
near the sea's undertow
knocked down by the tide
as Igor waves me on
reaching a gravity
in the Cape's home harbor
here he lived
as an artist
quoting Lermontov
to me
his avant garde
ocean partner
and rescuer for the day
by junkie beach combers,
cowboy tourists
rusty from Arizona.
city priests,
mystics from St. Petersburg,
soap opera has beens,
lovely lesbian Island poets,
as posterity obeys us
morning birds buzz,
we have no apologies
nor elegies to write on
the dunes branches
we drink a cold beer
listening to the Red Sox
in the shady shadows
of orgies we suspect
are happening,
we want to forget
the snows on the steppes
of America and Russia
we want abandoned love
to be merciful
under ocean lanterns
bathing in among
the boat boys and gals
lifting fish with our hands
out of the sea
taking a cold beer
listening to Liszt's sonata
finding a copy
of Genet's The Balcony
I take my mouth organ
from my blanket
to play smooth jazz
near a sand castle,
Igor walks
with a seeing eye dog
he is taking care of
thirsting for any news
of reality.