I want a typewriter

My sunburn is hot
from my day of being on the river
with a bunch of pirates

Old men with long beards
and small tan dicks
young pot trimmer women
with thin panties and armpit hair
with their dates who had beer bellies
and friendly faces

Piles of weed were everywhere
like watermelon and pita chips
a Mexican family
with gang tats and toddlers
one of the Mexican gangster women
just climbed up on a rock
and layed out on somebody else's
beach towel
thug moves

The Yuba River
has to be one of the cleanest rivers
left in America
and I can't help but appreciate
the lawlessness of the foothills
how the libertarian West
hides in pockets like that
like tribes in the Amazon

My phone isn't interesting to me anymore
because the only person I want to look at
isn't really on there much anymore
she's taking a break
from social media and me
she'll be back though
in her time
I'm done worrying about it
I'm going to do what I want

So I blocked out my trip
to Mexico with my truck and my sons
with any luck we'll get face to face with whale
and I'll show them the good life
how it isn't really that hard
by spear fishing dinner
and getting us a casita with AC and a pool
and all I'll do is write and eat
and drink tequila and be generally
expatriated

This season where
there's nobody to torture by being myself
and nobody to love from afar on my phone
really calls for a typewriter
I'd like to clack out love poems
all over Baja
leave them in hidden places on good paper
send them in the mail
drop them in prayer boxes in churches
write some to Mary
write some to the sea
fire them out with the report
of a heavy old small caliber rifle.

Sell them
get paid in faith.