Just before the sun dips its toes in the bay
we make the pilgrimage to Daniel's-by-the-Sea
where tall blue bottles of tequila spill their contents
into shot glasses. Don't bother asking for mix,
or anything else, unless you bring it, which we don't.

Instead, we carry stories wrapped in guises
of fact, fiction, or something in-between
while pelicans dive and fly,
skimming so close to breaking surf
you'd swear they'll fall in, but no;
only when they choose to. 

Dogs rush other dogs rush other dogs,
large, small, doesn't matter?they just want to play.
A fisherman casts his net.
Eventually the sun sets. Glasses empty.
The world goes away. 

© by Linda Crosfield.
Used with the author’s permission.