as highway 1 disappeared

behind the swirling frowns of sand dunes

your eyes barely registered 

       the setting sun

       the jeeps parked four-deep on the shoulder

       the California poppies erupting in tangerine clusters along the routes’ dimples

your hands hang limp out of the open window

fingers frozen against the glass

dazed and 

       missing and 

              never here

as the rip-tides pulled in the summer’s beer bottles and 

      plastic shovels and 

               forgotten tupperware

you were pulled away too

legs refusing to resist the tide

a backwards angel going feet-first into the womb

did you even think to turn your head and smile

          offer one last goodbye?

or did the water feel so cool and mellow beneath your tired spine

       like the old mattress stationed under the window of your childhood bedroom

       sheets curling around the edges

or was it like a shallow grave

       the soft earth offering to absorb your falling tears

as the Pacific is cast in the muted glow of twilight and 

       end-of-rush-hour exhaust

your eyes are still staring

       vacant as the expressions of the rocky islands in the distance

floating but never drifting

       still

eternally.