California Series #101

Saying this work is reminiscent of Diebenkorn 

or Thiebaud is a false statement on my part

for whom am I to say if the colors capture 

the sea in Ocean Park and the thick brush 

strokes against the milky thighs are the 

Streets of San Francisco cascading 

across winding roads and ending up

by a red brick building or a stumped toe?

And so what were you thinking besides 

“what's for lunch?”

Any canned mussels or oysters to throw 

onto a plate? Hand over some crackers

and a cold beer. Pass the Tabasco

while I stare at those protruding breasts 

as the rose builds up on a sun burnt chest

intersecting to a sea of an elongated great 

blue foam only to burst into a toppled fiery 

red robust locks of curls like like that time I held 

onto the rope stretched across the ocean floor 

so the waves would not drag me down. 

And who am I to say this lazy afternoon's

oil sketch was not just an effort to 

feeling nothing at all for a few blissful 

hours except for how to paint the cool 

blue shadow as it takes comfort against 

a white cold marble floor.