Why do I wait?
The day has come to a full trot without me. I started to write a piece last night, a meditation on the difficulties of love, but trashed it as useless nonsense this morning. And it was.
I look forward to getting in the car and driving home, fast.
On the drive in to the city this morning there was just a hint of orange sunrise over the dark, jagged line of horizon, of distant mountain range. It is really something, the view from the Golden Gate Bridge. For the minute that it takes to cross one can almost pretend that they are high up in the crow's nest, perched near the peak of a pirate mast.
But, it requires an imagination that practices such things, like escaping justice by your wits, a heart filled with lost treasure maps, secret codes and handshakes, one wooden leg, an eye patch from the missteps of past pillage, and of course... the jolly roger flapping high up in and against the winds.
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