A Couple More Pictures, and Then I Am Finally Back

I walked the streets of my small Midwestern downtown today, and it occurred to me that beneath the concrete and the crisscrossing pipes and wires, beneath the last bits of gallows that hung the 38, beneath the residue of floods, beneath roots reaching the wrong way for light, beneath the buried clues of crimes no one will solve, beneath the tears, the great plates of rock swim across magma and the first-ever secret, the first light, the first death. And then I thought of how that all reverses itself at a faraway shoreline, where the inside of the earth reverses itself, and takes on the color of water, which will always tame fire, which will always cool stone.

Aloha, Mi Casa

Pedro, I love you madly:
































And you're not bad, either:

















And you! And you!

















Your salt follows me back, all the way to the middle:

Suddenly Everyone is 53

Kiki Lamonica attended her 35th high school reunion in a gated community deep in the coastal foothills of southern California. People looked pretty good for their age. People were happy to be alive. Only one guy caused any trouble, the one who arrived in a limo only later to have the limo driver ditch him, leaving all his stuff in the driveway because he would not pay the $300 tab. All the rest were well behaved. Kiki was reminded of things she had long forgotten. Kiki took notes for future accounts.

West

In the last first place, the pier steps on shore
from the fog, and blankets spread flat on sand,
and others look at others from under
their hats and sunscreen, their umbrellas leaned

into late morning, where coffee still steamed
on the table, dishes waited to be done,
and in the back room an aging aunt dreamed
about salt, talking in her sleep past noon.

In the first last place, sea anemones
squint at the girl from tide pools, pelicans
slice thin air above a wave. Rock says its piece
to rock, its edges sharp with mussel, clam.

Between first and last, the girl is swimming past
the jetty, her sun-white back a small coast.

My Beloved Trestles Beach

This is where I learned to go right, which isn't all that easy for a goofy-footer.











































































For current conditions and a live cam, see

http://www.surfline.com/surfline/livecams/report.cfm?alias=trestlescam

April Street's Old Hood

I'm visiting some of my soul places this week:

The beach below Swami's:

















Swami's:

















Where I was born:

















My pier:

















A girl like me:

















A girl like me, still learning:

In case you didn't know

Jesus' first house included a fireplace, a grate, and some presto logs.