Christmas in Pismo

a snowy broken town, beat up ‘out all the cold
dropped and kicked by the pacific cod
drip faced at harrys ’til 3, flying high summer kites and windy springs

damp mornings christmas fog
elevating sounds carrying on with seagulls slowly cresting
sunrise palm trees colored up and juiced ‘till dawn

wrapped up like christmas packages
lights, cameras
tall up to the sky with the hopes
of our southern kin rolling up the valleys from rustic jockos spurs

dripping rust like little gifts
from old santa claus heading to richer pastures