Third-Coast

We sit on the rocks in the makeshift garden of the apartments that were once a high school. We talk about the news and not the news. She's taking a break. And I am not, but I should be. "Embrace the absurdity," It's cold and windy but very very bright. We're out to catch the light. She tells me Passover dinner is going to be hard this year. It may be Annie's last, or the last Annie will remember, so she cannot miss it. Everything's changing. Everything's somehow the same. I tell her about the news. The absurd bits, the easy fare. We laugh. We shiver in the wind. "Are you okay," she asks. I'm not, but I'm fine. "The sun is too bright, and I forgot my glasses. It hurts my eyes." "Does it actually hurt?" "It's overwhelming. Like five actors belting different tunes over one another, lovely and too much-- yet you dare not tell the sun after such a long winter please don't shine so bright."

A trip to Iowa was suddenly booked, last minute. We bent our schedules' spines, crunched numbers, displaced weaker parts of our week to fit ourselves into the box of hours that compose a single Saturday. It would be worth it. Sudden money. And I was scheduled to drive. I would rent a car, they said, and dates were exchanged, bars freshly jammed into the Excel sheet and time was 'made' and the backbone of the month rolled and pitched, yawing even by slow degrees. Strong and flexible. Accommodating and secure. All was set. I wouldn't even miss the ballet the next day. Within the hour it was all canceled. A chain of emails the only proof that I hadn't dreamt this windfall. It would have been worth it. Sudden money. But I was supposed to drive. And it would have been tight. And all I could think was that some prayer, some future magic altered the past. A car accident in Iowa was diverted. I don't want to be the driver. I have so much stuff to do. I didn't want to miss the

Sand rippling smoother than a sea of silk. In the air petrichor signs her signature. Where the water meets the land, a boy performs a syncopated dance with his dear partner, a small metal detector. He leads. She follows, giggling with discoveries.

She came to me suddenly again, asking me for some more medicine. I told her, "Darling, I thought we were done. What's the name of this infection? You look so smart, do you lack wisdom? Something off with your nervous system?" She didn't speak and she didn't shout. She turned her head and then walked right out. I'm sure tomorrow we'll meet again, And I'll have to hand it to her then, Out-of-the-blue flavored medicine.

Morning. Montrose beach. An old sand castle melts. Ozymandias.

Build the garden. I know the debate, but it's worth it in the end. I know the objections-- there are too many to list-- but it's worth it in the end. Tomatoes are strange, but they may grow to become your favorite children. Such interesting adults. They grow so fast, in their own way. Cabbages, beans... Get your great pumpkin started now for Halloween... And the sunflowers, well, they're not going anywhere, are they? Loyal fellows, in their way. They're worth it. They'll be there in the end.

new scar orchid-hued burn on the left wrist a fresh encounter with a hot stove shaped like an unhealthy heart. a single touch shorter than an eye blink, and days later it looks like hell. already neglected, how long will it linger? it makes me feel like a different man, this little scar, this little memento, this eternal blink of an eye now this new story I that binds me. same and so different now.

A congress of birds in the yard. The debates, the scandals, the flirtation! Everything is alive. Everything breathes easier. I am quiet, resting in bed like a hidden tulip seed, gathering energy, hoping to stay warm. This is not my first Midwestern Spring. Late frost has burned me many times before. The swing door is open. There is sunshine and good air. And yet, I cannot get myself out of bed to see what all the fuss is for.

I hope you are only ever surrounded by people exactly like you.

O, quiet cowboy, in those rarest hours when the days fall silent, and serious, circumspect, in gentle minutes hushed with profound kindness, you are the only thing I hear.