About an hour later the power went off.
An hour after that the floor caved in.
An hour after that the building caught on fire.
An hour after that the sinkhole sucked it all in.
An hour after that the flood came,
filling everything like the opposite of a baptism.
An hour after that the sharks came.
An hour after the sharks came,
the tsunami came, pulling them in.
And then, the tsunami crashed
and even the mountains themselves were flattened,
gnawed away at by the crash of a thousand sharks.
An hour after that the water went still,
slowly dripping off the edge
of this turtle island we live upon.
When the ground dried up
and the sun returned
like a long overdue Blockbuster videotape
I could see straight across the newly formed plains
my sweet San Diego,
and I walked hours and hours
just to light a candle beside you.
Day #22 of #nationalpoetrymonth | Cover image: Thomas Vimare