From your blufftop bedroom,
watching the bay parfaited in bands
of darkening turquoise below you --
its surfaces frothed by dolphins,
its depths stirred by the telescope
you'd meant to poke at the sky --
you picture a life at sea level:
the city skyline slung low
and tight across your horizon,
the water revving at your doorstep.
Only a landslide can save you now.
Tumble down to the tidal zone
and beach yourself here beside me
where vision and substance meet:
where the earth flattens and floods
and smashed beer bottles
wash up at our feet
disguised as amber jewels.