A last minute decision to go to the beach. It's time to get away. We will pack the car up with the requisite beach accoutrements and head towards the sand and surf and the ocean beyond, to the last mermaid, seaweed and shark, merry whale, end of flesh and hour and horror, and finally they stop, and you go on, toward your ocean, the cigar biting your lips, the way love used to.
Well, I had not pre-thought that Bukowski would somehow make his way into my post this morning. It will not be a Bukowski day, I do not think. I will bring a book to the beach and hopefully read a bit. I will bring a camera and hopefully capture an image or two, to document my life, to verify that it is happening, that it has happened.
Some people work very hard. But still they never get it right.