of a shed snakeskin on a scumbled path, a first sign
I’d left behind the thick skin of civilization.
Now I find scrapped condoms and studs jacked off metal buckles.
I can’t run farther, I’ll run out of shoes and beauty.
Â
What’s outside between the fog and my window: roof tiles guaranteed
to last a lifetime, satellite dishes that catch the incoming tide,
the snow of sand, glow of whaleskin, golden red of wildfires, fences
and figments that never wholly obscure the sun in November.
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When the landscape changes, I adjust my eyesight.
If I have a dream of tomorrow, I give it up to the morning,
keep my cell phone handy, memorize the tsunami evacuation routes.
Watch out for snakes. Â Â
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—Florence Weinberger
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Readers are invited to submit their poems—no longer than 200 words in length. Submissions will be edited for spelling and punctuation only. Â
Please submit entries to: The Malibu Times, 3864 Las Flores Canyon Rd., Malibu, CA 90265 or by email to emily@malibutimes.com.