San Quinton

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I went to San Quinton on a boat that was leaking
The seagulls were dire and the waves were-a creeping
And there I thought about one beyond reach:
A man of distinction; a name so tenuous, even the waves would not speak
And it was that sacred name that burned in my heart for some time or so
And I did not want and I would not allow this old yearning to grow

Then a sailor came by and asked if I would help him find gold
But what I said was:
‘Sorry, for I am taken by another and only by that other – I am his
and only his, sorry sailor, I am sold.’
His ship sailed away and the rain started up
The cold began and I thought I would drown on bad luck
Furthermore, the seagulls departed when they could not catch food
So alone on my boat, I breathed sallow and hollow the scent, of the
death serpent’s mood

Then a light through the fog revived me from The Reaper’s sleep
It was the moon from above that smiled, as I lay broken, timid and weak
And it croaked in a voice mighty and low:
‘Sailor, I’ve been watching you, but where do you wish to go?’
‘San Quinton! San Quinton! Have you heard of such place?’
Then the moon shuffled and became crescent; pulling a quizzical face
‘Sailor, I’m sorry but you speak of a land from a time long a go
It was destroyed by the comet after it was lost to the century of snow.’

Soon after, the moon disappeared by becoming eclipsed
And the sun shone bright where I died
And often I can be heard walking the boards of a ship
In search of a place no man can find

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