Blue

Peaceful landscape unfolds into endless skies that offer plastic comfort
Unnatural, uncomfortable like new jeans
With sharp seams stained an evenly false blue
Premature, this blue has not yet lived, wears no distinctions, no edge
The great western sky wide open, light. Beautiful? I grit
My teeth against such perfection, and miss the surf

Colors in constant evolution. Unpredictable chaos churns the surf
Intense rage in black green, a pinch of soothing turquoise for comfort
Smooth vanilla ice cream crunchy with grit
Shards of sand and grating salt water erode my jeans
Which bend to meet my body, perched above on a rocky edge
Against steel cliffs, above the harsh surf, I succumb easily to the blue

Never confused with babies eyes and endless skies, my reckless blue
Is unpredictable with chilled secrets hiding beneath an inviting sapphire surf
Demanding. Pay attention! Life is here, at the edge
No pretense at comfort
That deceives the eye, like those rolling fields and unbroken jeans
Predictable stretches of immature beauty, lacking imperfections and salty grit

Primary colors of a child’s drawing fail to reach the paper’s edge
Yellow sun, green grass, scrawls of sky in a soft cartoon blue
With the mandatory marshmallow puffs of white. How will my jeans
Tear through? Knees that haven’t felt the sting of surf
Can not blow out. Cannot relax into reliable comfort
Without an occasional peak over the edge

Angry waves broken shells stinging spray dance at the edge
Spinning in a wonderful turmoil of grit
Unavoidable, it lodges with delight and comfort
Against my skin, my eyes, raw as I stare out at imperfect blue
Too dark, too light, too cold, united within the indifferent surf
Sand spills out as I shake down the torn cuff of my jeans

The knees have worn thin on my salted jeans
Rolled up to bare legs that dangle over the rocky edge
Whistling wind signals the continuing dance, egging the surf
On in its endless movement. Scrubbed clean, alive with grit
The ancient blue
Offers possibilities and comfort

Roiling surf tugs at my jeans
An aloof uneasy comfort, this welcome mat at the edge
Treasure-tossed grit in a wondrously, fickle blue