We didn’t get far, off Vista del Mar and onto Culver, when Bridgid let it be known she needed a pit stop, and I pulled off the side of the road in the Ballona Wetlands. Tilde put Brigid on a short leash and walked her into what I guessed was sagebrush. I stayed with theContinue reading “Room for Two More”
Quiet finally filled Wormy’s place as an early morning fog rose over the dunes from the ocean beach. His plan to slough off Tilde awoke a sleeping shrew. They fought and argued and cried and wrestled and scratched, clawed and scolded each other all night long, Tilde’s wails crescendoing up and down scales like fiddlesContinue reading “Three for the Road”
On the floor of a sea of smokecrawling to an empty conchI pass a woman out walkingher dog neither with a maskand she smoking a cigarette. And some bony lady jogging thru the smoke and fog upand down the local sidewalks a serious jogger indeed sans nuisance mask. Toodeloo, I whistle in mymask, in myContinue reading “Intermission: A Smoky Sea”
Wormy had a girlfriend, was in a relationship, he wanted to get rid of, to get out of. He had a plan. He wanted to do some time travelling on the scooter. I tried to tell him that was a bad idea. All times are the same, same rotten humans unhappy with their lot. TheContinue reading “An Old Rig and a Passenger”
Knowing the chance of my seeing Wormy again slim, I stayed on through the weekend at his Orange Orchid Tiki Bar, working the back room, enjoying the festival carnival. I slept in the backyard in my cowboy bedroll, with Wormy’s dog, Brigid Kildare, nestled against my legs. But in the early morning, Brigid did herContinue reading “Brigid”
The song he sang bang bangwronged his world in ruin.The song he sang rang rangin a public call box.No one by picked it upto hear his sad sack tale. Who does not doubtthe flood zone maps,the flow of the fire line?One in trees, one underground.One flies to the sky.One climbs to a fallout shelter. OneContinue reading “Intermission: Two Songs”
Toedeloe to the floor of the Vespa scooter, I cruised north up Hwy 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, in real time, present time, though I wasn’t always sure what week I was in or even what day it was, and guessed the time of day from the position of the sun in the sky andContinue reading “Pip Pip at the Pub”
Near the endhis spindledid him in narrowingdown maelstromopen mouthed carnivalamuserwaits upon.
Revving up the time travelling scooter I pulled away from Tin Can Beach and 1954 and the veterans I’d met and spent a few days and nights with hanging out and drinking beers listening to stories they’d brought back with them from Korea. I drove into the traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway heading northContinue reading “Used to It”
I dig ithe sd asa dude does no shovelheld his handsone foot on his barstoolwarbling sudsnext to us.
Pete, a veteran with nightmares of night problem patrols, spoke of the snow of his time in country, how the snow melted in the winter firefights, how it sucked up red light like a county fair snowball. For guys like Pete, Tin Can Beach provided paradisiacal possibilities after bouncing around in troop carriers in theContinue reading “Hobo Poop on Tin Can Beach”