Green Haired Surfer (Catawamp)

Everything changed yesterday when I saw the surfer
Even keel on a hill with slope:
vibrant, bleached, soft green tresses

like kelp beds of meadow drawn
down the back ditch in wild array. She loped
on wheels, serene blesser.

The ocean of rasta moss was drawn
back loosely, her uphill float
an effortless glide the earth caresses.

Inspired, I imagined quitting, becoming an ocean outlaw
to flow through smooth terrains and sprout
locks like wildernesses.

My revery of soft foam crashes
against the tunnel of day job cloak.
I ponder a green freedom that reality distresses.

Peerless, ample surrender, undulant flashes
beckon as the mountain of suits gropes
for my throat. Only the growing earth gets me out of these messes.

Is it the ocean color or the serene stashes --
equilibrium of butte -- that in my heart stokes
what verdure expresses?

Everything changed yesterday when I saw
the green haired surfer. A moment became arctic, frozen,
in embodied growth. What senses

will that tidal rift awaken, gnashed
by the gravity well of two sheering continents, space stolen
from time, what bright, grass-colored lenses?

Or new eyes even? A waterworld mashes
in the orb of one eye-terrarium saved
by a momentary green-haired rider - I'll never know her name, what sends

her out on Friday night twilight, this merwoman who washes
across my awareness, the quake
of gentle green she condenses.

(If a song, the refrain...*)
Even suited, I will be this surfer. Dashing,
verdant Medusa uprising, like new continents shaking,
a mesmerizing body of peace.

6/11/11

* Note: Little sound file of the refrain...Newb at Garage Band, have to wait for it to start...