
“Today is postcard perfection, even now, with sunlight too harsh to look at, the trees with tongues hanging for water, and the dead plants in the garden. I think of the ocean, the look of the sea from watery suntanned eyes, in Malibu and Santa Monica or Del Mar beach, the splashing of waves around my shoulders as I sink beneath the surface. I’m going home to the flowered gardens and avenues of palm trees of Del Mar to see where and if I belong. I spend the days interviewing movers, making last-minute appointments, separating wardrobes, rummaging through my storage unit, and staring into an unknown future for the first time in thirty-five years without my partner.






When it is closure, to events and persons in those events, and if you examine your part, what you played, was it original or falsified, was it genuine, and was it worth it. Asking myself these questions, as I bounced over to the Social Club to test my sociability. I do resist introductions, loners are like that, tonight I was in a celebratory mood, and I wanted to be like an octopus, my arms hanging out, ready to catch. t.
Leave a Comment