Blue

            adapted from The Blue of Capricorn by Eugene Burdick, 1961

There is a place where

the Pacific coldly smokes.

Only a thin,

razor-sharp

tendril of

steam.

Gray, dense, impenetrable,

ominous.

This is my Pacific.

But it is a different place,

a different personality,

a different adventure.

It is not my Pacific.

Blue is my Pacific.

Enormous, plural,

contradictory.

I have heard that dying by

freezing is a blissful relief.

To go deep with bubbles and

spray and coldness about one.

This is my Pacific.

Blue – coldly smoking.