(Marvin Gaye, Hawaii 1979-80)

To snort pure blow by the ocean’s half-light,
eat ripe pineapples in a bread van :
pawn all possessions, withdraw outright,
trace the glory of a big toe in the sand

Back in Hidden Hills, studio and home
shut tight and eight million dollars vanished :
the handsomest exile without income,
a king from his own Xanadu banished

No responsibilities, no address,
at the end of the end of everything :
and rootlessness gives way to recklessness,
and he won’t even stop smoking to sing

He reads Revelations, he picks up shells
he waits for the final flurry of bells