I wanted to share this simply because I was so taken by it. The images it creates, the surreal edge, touch of humour lie thick & rich, yet there is a lower strata of poignancy, social awareness and beauty.
We spent days in mist. Ocean dust.
My hair looked like a $100 job. Rated 10.
I was training myself to walk backwards, parallel to the shore without looking behind or falling in. All core, hope, and imagination.
Seagulls crested in unison; scattering sporadically like the response to a secret boom or big bear sneeze; returning to formation like an answer to all the questions unasked.
You’d rolled up your pants and still got soaked, just like every time we’d come before.
Submitting our tarnished souls
To our repetitive salt water baptism.
In the small beach-town little matted dogs’d do erratic dances behind worn, corroded fences of rust, threatened tetanus. They’d bark their heads off ruthless, and untrustworthy.
4 legged Napoleons. Land piranhas.
My mutt wasn’t having it.
Beneath the bridge connecting coastal access to sleepy commerce center, congregate the bums, whoopin’ and slipping around, catching alarmed crawdads, drinking Old…
View original post 204 more words