Kevin Opstedal

Kevin Opstedal is the author of Radio Beach. He lives in California.

WHEELS

for Noel Black

Space returns from an extended vacation

In catalogs of air each turquoise page reveals less

Maybe the smog shaved off some few centimeters from the
thermal inversion leaving us torn paper
translucent crystals, sea shells, smooth gray pebbles
& a chewed up piece of some kind of metal (tin?)

She broke off a piece of the sunlight & threw it in the backseat

woke up later
handcuffed to a palm tree in Santa Harmonica

It was all a blank, self-contained & dazzling
as if in some margin of the sea
an ominous bass line with urgent drums
assumes the warp of her heart's angular distortion

The acoustic version is virtually transparent
though carrying with it the sludge of a Paleolithic mudslide

I went back / I disappeared / it was automatic
Why should it be any different?

I have faith, hope, charity & a bottle of pills