Reef - 1995
W. Dire Wolff
a decade from a new century we ask, Is this the world we were promised?
Everyone bought tickets at the New Yorks World Fair. Buckminister
Fuller introduced us to the geodesic dome, so we moved to the wilderness
and emerged whole. Stumbling to the doorstep of the last decade in the
rubble of Reagan, Bush, and the crowning of Hillary.
Too Late! we cried. Too Late! the great mountain
I drifted past the tye dye store and bought a brand new Brooks Brother
White. Hot from the iron and as crisp as a fresh twenty from the ATM.
Jerry pulled snug around my throat. Breezed up to the curb to scurry past
the valet in the lobby. It was all for the business, but I got lost as
she dropped her lipstick. Eyes meeting in the twinkle, then harried embarrassment
of paper shuffle. The elevator rushes to the waiting of the electronic
Busy, busy little fingers that tap, tap, tap to the CD player groovin
on the nightstand. Password accepted and everyone comes on line. Welcome
back my friends to the call that never ends. Cyberspace oozing out of
the monitor in holographic transmissions. Murky levers of the new horizon
lifting us from the dark ages to the light of information, communication,
and fascination. Techno zap on the keyboard rap.
Morning found us, like it always does. The clubs had closed long ago and
the beat of the Rave was washed away in the chill out zone. Just the two
if us with the Jeeps top down. Heater blowing to protect us from
the chill of morning fog hanging on the edges of the little thunder rolling
on the sand. The salt water would soon disguise the blood shot eyes with
likely excuses. Once again we paddle out in the first dim light pushing
through the fog.
The first wave found me. I took and followed it along its little
valley. I carved her initials in the face and floated back to the top.
Paddled back out to find another, even better than the other. It was just