buzzing like crooked fin

got to the reef at sunrise
swell looked like still to come
one guy out before me on a slug
I slipped into black rubber
grabbed the green machine
ran down the dune trail
tall grass grabbing arms and legs
quick paddle out with the tide almost
peaking -turn and burn on the first
weave my way down the face
there's a little juice to it
drifty too -paddlin back towards the point
left of the boils
forty five minutes of fishin fun
back up the trail to grab five fins
swell still building
period elongating with the faces
slug drops in on my paddle back
makes the bottom turn, me wide on the shoulder
the face is seven or eight feet
perfect, reeling, peeling
the sun now over the horizon
I get washed in by a set
walk around and paddle back out
rental board crews surveying their
chances -don't go I think
I get hammered on the inside bar
two hours in, shoulders and back are beat
another big one swings wide
I'm on the right side of the boil
turn, stroke, look down at the blue bottom
sand startin to make her murk down the line
stand up and go, five fins push water
no need to pump

still building

closing out now

go to work

buzzing now
summertime swells
with juice are rare
now to forget
focus on making a living

moments of clarity in surf
are fleeting


Jamie Watson said...

I love your poem and music today.

Anonymous said...

good post, you put me there too.