Saturday, April 29, 2017


I've lost my enthusiasm, you know.
From every town I visit, something's
missing. Askew. From Sayreville to
Stoney Point, all I want is you, or the
new, or the story of a real life point of
view. They keep the shapely skeletons
in the back. I found that out today.
I was having coffee on the street, a small
table for two in front of the shop. The
garnished people walking by, all alert
to their new infraction : everyone with
a story, the glass-blower guy in his
shop, the real estate lady who walked
by twice, each time with a newer
conversation and another interested
person. This skinny tattooed girl came
by. Sleeveless, of course, to show off
the ink, black tee, and the rest.
Sitting down like I'd known her for
life, she begins telling me her dog notes :
so depressed, adopted a dog, started a
business the very next week, the dog
lifted her up from the hole, they're great.
Pulls out her phone, pictures of her
dog, starts snapping mine. 'Dogs are
great,' she says,  and says it again. 
'Mine saved my life.'
Yes, well, OK. It's like that with 
submarines. Here's hoping they all 
rise to the surface, dogs or not.
One time, in Vermont, I was at 
Lake Bomosseen and truly wanted 
to drown. In that instance, I saved 
myself  -  a dog  having nothing 
to do with it.

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