Memorial Day in the post-apocalyptic sculpture garden

It was somewhere outside the Sunland-

Tujunga area.  We were picnicking in a patch

of ruined statues.  The broken column we

placed ourselves behind was Ionic. A thin

Egyptian cat effigy leaned on the head

of a carved marble warrior beside you, exhaling

a gust of ancient green incense that raced across

the sky as if it were a hunted parrot.  I said,

“No one speaks of summer anymore, or

revolution.”  You said, “the only topics left

for us are the property values of sand castles,

and the way that tiny babies chirp like birds.” 

Eventually, the moon stretched its fingertips

over the horizon and pulled itself shimmeringly

into the infinity pool of night.  “Just don’t go

all cross-eyed on it,” I said.  “Your face will

harden into that expression forever.”