some daily language

I ran away for a minute

that stretched itself out long
like a tight rope walkers baton
which was good because I needed that
kind of leverage.

I have been covering myself in thoughts
of limbs of trees stretching
over me toward the motionless
ocean of Long Beach
past the parking meters and concrete lots.

I often went wild and jogging there where
wind wips your hair
with the grains of sea salt and sea sand
that Long Beach likes to share with passers by
who trouble it for an answer for all
the post-fall wanderings some of us make.

Forget voices or great rushing winds,
I settled often for the scarce bobbing fins
of dolphins in the wax and wane
and children's small dexterous fingers
pointing out with shouts that both
give and take from my disdain
of everything else.

In just that place, I wish I were.

Or I wish the heavens would sing and stir
a salvation I could hear, or even see--

I wish my heart could go out and return
not so impure from its need.