The Reef

by: W. Dire Wolff

Eyes that squint in sudden sunlight, blasting from behind cloud shadowland. Convenience store clerk darts down the dirty sidewalk, with chasing curses behind the fast footed shoplift. So he returns to scold my BMW’s flat tire that lays bare boned amid the beer cans in the faded white and yellow parking lines. And who could but eye care that the daylight passes in forgotten minutes? That the city lays quiet like a rushing rapid river in this golden moment seems of no consequence to the changing patrons of the hour.

From the tie dye sheets that provide a fortress to the hardwood floors, I cast away the shadows in colorful canvas still wet with the colors’ odor. Eye find my brush stokes relieve me from the neon tubes that burst forth images and information. From the lofty studio eye embraced this city and made it my mountain valley, for now. For now it’s where eye find the last bits of fading scene. Where dirty crime filled gulches filled with artists and web heads that came downhill from melting snow and rain. As the gladiators prepare their stadium at the harbor’s edge, the yuppie’s rush to find safe haven in real estate investments. So that while eye paint my little paintings, to the strum of my guitar, that brings pause from my web inventions and commissioned software, Eye know that eye am part of the end.