the three of us – dane, curtis and I, were sitting on their porch drinking
margaritas and breathing in the heat - a hot one - early hot - walking to get
coffee before 9 am and it felt like the dead afternoon where the heat shimmers
on the pavement - I don't like this kind of heat even though I grew up in it -
we were talking about all sorts of things - and at one point curtis was telling
us about computer chess - how you can see it break down the possibilities - and
how it looks like lightning on the screen - the probability of chance and
logistics - a flash of light across the screen and I made a mental note like I
always do and then forget to write it down later and make a poem of it - and we
kept talking about Cassandra and the curse of prophecy - of what it means to
understand what is behind everything that is behind and then thunder smacked
and we couldn't be sure what it was at first - so out of sorts with the day and
then lightning spread like fingers through the clouds behind me - the sky has
been dark for two days now with the smoke of fires - last week the smoke
suspended the streets of downtown and made the night feel gone - end of the world
smoke and we drank absinthe and danced while the pianos dueled it out and
people walked the streets - this week people ride bikes with scarves over their
faces and surgery masks over their mouths – it’s a weird time to be
leaving – I don’t know if it’s the movies or just the way the world is – but it’s
hard not to imagine collapse – California burning – the arrival at someplace
new – the end of things – maybe also it’s how often I end and how often I begin
again -
