August in California

I think that I would like to write a poem that
 is slow as a summer
As slow getting started
As 4th of July somewhere around the middle of
 the second stanza
After a lot of unusual rain
California seems long in the summer.
I would like to write a poem as long as California
And as slow as a summer.
Do you get me, Doctor?  It would have to be
as slow
As the very tip of summer.
As slow as the summer seems
On a hot day drinking beer outside Riverside
Or standing in the middle of a white-hot road
Between Bakersfield and Hell
Waiting for Santa Claus.

-- From: Pscyoanalysis: An Elegy by Jack Spicer
(For the whole text click here.)