We drove past abandoned homes and trailers that collectively
left the impression of a salvage yard

*

We stopped and parked in an empty lot near the house
with an old hearse (slowly dressing in a desert
patina) and a giant clam

*

At that point we followed the disjointed string
of “everyone else”

*

Over the dike and down to the beach

*

I took pics. I got the bones of a ship. I got a homeless mailbox.
I skipped the Lisa del Giocondo porch (face without a body,
face without a face) because my Mona Lisa refused to pose.
I zoomed in on the large swing in the water
and the misty mountains

*

When I got closer to the water I continued with my wading beauty:
swing & mountains, swing & shoreline, swing & black-necked
stilt, swing-seat & pendant fish

*

I took a break from the swing. Waited for the family of three
to step aside, then shot the big sign whose legs were
braced by local rocks:

THE ONLY OTHER THING IS
       NOTHING

*

Then my Mona said we’d better go. “Yes,” I replied.
“I suppose it’s getting late”

*

As we left, we paused for a white truck that was spinning
a nasty spiral of dust

I turned to take one last pic:

a young couple (in silhouette) out on a narrow spit,
cuddling in a soft pink chair

– R L Swihart