"illegal fun . . . under the sun, boys . . . "

The Olmos Cliffs
(another coffee poem)

i.
gargoyles at club Argyle
cantinflas, mariachis
actuarial contemplations
down the long line of
Patterson Avenue
infant bubblings bubbling
on into forever at the Olmos
Cliffs, precipice of evermore:
in the benighted bliss
after the Barbie
carousels, byzantine
jewels,
margaritas in the silver
bowl . . .

ii.
i wandered from oak
to crest - green
dress flashing brown
legs, hair's breadth
from pre-figuration
angels dusting our shoulders
pollinated desire
indirect guesses
cavalcade down the angel
way, into the garden
of the sisters,
Angels & Jesus with his
Big Boss heart, all
their concrete fingers snapped
into an oblivion of
care and nurture that
bleeds into the seventh
innings -
jean in her hapless
impoverished death,
while the sisters
of Jesus
process dormitory-style
into their garden rows,
Hoss God at his
sixth floor window,
counting down the hours
for you & me,
too big for his britches &
pushin' on the screen -
Wellesian apparition -
black queen on red
king, pushing
the sixteen & still
tapping out the jeri-curls
in your hand.
Hit me, sez she, &
it's a blow that lasts
forever.