After

Gun-metal gray, with a two foot chop,
Describes the San Diego shore line.
Remnants of last night’s hotel’s dinner
Sit on the sand, awaiting tonight’s resurrection.

A tall bar table for two,
With a white tablecloth hanging unevenly,
Awaits the morning crew,
Who will remove the evidence.

A dozen folding chairs,
Resembling the aftermath of a New Year celebration,
(Leaning, lying askew, or erect, awaiting someone’s butt)
Looking to have failed a group support project.

Three pigeons move slowly across the surrounding sand,
Pecking at a potential source of delight.
Six others stand to one side
Possibly discussing tonight’s menu.

Within an hour this camera-ready photo
Will be replaced by children with sand pails,
Joggers of all shape and sizes,
And a break in the morning fog.

For this moment the picture is pensive,
Undecided on its degree of sobriety.
Phantoms of the drinkers and talkers
Fade as I move into this last eternal day.