This Perfect Beach Poem by Ray Quesada

Happy energy, human energy, lingers in
the air around the Eastern American Coast
a small beach wedding - black folks -
I witnessed today - sunny, partly
cloudy, April 28th,2012.

The fizzy cool splish of ocean waves
on the shore give auditory illusion
of Coca-cola; of leaves blowing on wise
old trees; Stare at the secret,
gray-blue ocean
-Quantum universe Truth is revealed.

I'd like to die peacefully at the beach,
probably around the age 66-67ish
-the perfect death for anyone...high
on opiate; slow, contemplative
breaths; Serene, and surrounded
by loved ones...and with the feeling
that one's mission is over.

Nathan Capps, my friend, off in the city -
thanks for Dharma Bums. Nathan, i dreampt
of you last night (we were hopping trains?)
while I was nodding off on Roxi, Percs, Beer,
Benadryl, Xanax, Melatonin...
How did I wake up this morning? Did I
really? Is this perfect
beach a Death Dream? ?

Stare at the handwriting on the page:
don't blink - it's just skwiggles.

Each Hypnotic wave's echo over
the expanse of the coast
is a lullaby. Each wave makes it's
individual, original Sound
and slips into the past...
- birds painting themselves
across the great afternoon April
sky - - Billions of beautiful details
in each beach moment
all decaying into the future along
with my towel, beach chair, guitar,
notebook, and Self.

We walk through the mystery of life,
some of us tortured; some of us with
saltwater and sand matted on our
golden-tanned legs; and some of us
are forgotten, utterly desolate, fading
into the fog of...into the fog of...into
the fog of...

(April 28th,2012 - 5: 35 p.m.)