Rippled moon water laps the
Concrete pebble-inlaid promenade,
Spray soaks a seaside cafe’s outdoor furniture
Air chills my mind into knowing
I must have a drink in the Bay Hotel
In there drinking, feeling cool.
The Bay famous for the occasional whale
Tonight mermaids will drink my soul.
Old walruses guffaw around a beery table.
And all the kids up and down the coast
Meet here, drink, smoke
Spin to disco. Plenty of black folks
From the settlement south.
And one bloke says, ‘I know you
We met out on the plains
Some time before.’
Juke box flying
The woman in the moon
The palm tree.
© S. K. Kelen