For Scott I. Day, who understands.
On his birthday, 1997
San Felipe, Mexico was a church once for us,
we two non-religious travellers in the hurtling blue car
the moment of beautitude, nothing sweeter than arrival
our flight into the sticky arms of coastal air
the holy ocean kissing the mountain's foot
the purification of the heat, the crazy pelicans
these are the markers of our pilgrimage
these were the blessings in the cups of our days
this is it, the love of the green ocean
coming home to forever at last
the slide of time over and over the fine sand
my seawater veins rocked this heart into motion
the curl and turn of the tide was the blood's music
everywhere the rhythm of the salt, the stones, the stars
everywhere the voice of the chameleon sky
and out beyond the surge and sift
suspended in the symphony, the grey whales slept
themselves all praise and grace, weightless
dreaming of the upward turn to the light
