wind-feathered rivers&tides

I sat down at a table near a guy in a café.  “Let me ask you something,” I said to break the ice.  He looked up from his newspaper with mild irritation.  “You ever just step back and take stock of your whole life?”  He stared at me for a moment.  “No, not really.”  I slept by the river that night, just a flat sheet of glass but swift, reflective bridge lights bubbling by floating through the moon, white and steady with bats darting back and forth skimming the surface.  Woke up and kept walking, I’ve been wandering around this random town strumming my ukulele as I walk.  I still don’t really know how to play but I found 4 chords that if you put them together in a certain order they break your heart and I’ve just been strumming that over and over again.  I’m getting dirtier and dirtier.  I’m thinking about the idea of letting this journey come to an end and I don’t know what I would do instead or where I would go but I do know that I like being around music and art and dirty bare feet and long hair and that I like coffee shops and bright stars and red wine + moonlit porches as well as medium length walks on the beach of course.  Caught a ride south with a Jamaican immigrant who liked my hair and then caught a ride south with an old Hungarian couple and a little therapy dog and then caught a ride south with a momma and her 10-year-old son who offered to let me crash in her yoga studio if necessary and then caught a ride south with a guy who last year quit his job and took six months to hitchhike with his girlfriend from Portland to Panama and then caught a ride beyond the sunset and got dropped off somewhere in the dark nowhere, stars behind black patchwork clouds and wandered through a desolate neighborhood until I reached an old depot of shipyard bones.  There was an empty meadow of wild purple flowers that can be brewed into tea, and I set up camp near the edge where wooden skeleton of pier rose from the water and gray ghost seagulls floated in endless loops.  I slept damp and then gray morning mist drifted cold through the harbor shrouding hazy cliffs around a disappeared sea, the tide pulled back a quarter mile and left a thin silvery river through a new exposed meadow of gray, the bones of the pier looked ghostly poking from land, algae hanging from decaying crossbeams in the swirling fog.  Walked back to the world and met a guy who traded me a pocket watch for some tea I’d picked.  South on 101, drizzling Pacific Northwest skies became blazing California sunshine and I hit a ramp pointing into central Cali beside trees drenched in golden light.  A car pulled up loaded with gear and hula hoops and a beautiful girl got out to make space for me, she was the kind of girl I could fall in love with instantly, a dread or two and feathers in her hair, peacock-feathered top hat, nose ring and eyebrow gem free spirited sister soul.  She left me on a highway somewhere and asked where I was heading, anyway.  “I don’t know exactly what this means or where it is, how to build it or find it… but I’m going home,” I told her.  She pointed at her chest.  “In here,” she whispered.

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One Response to wind-feathered rivers&tides

  1. Leigh says:

    Love it, love you!

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