Your Poem

I can appreciate you
as you are, natural
and full of fragrance

I can see you as you are
simple, fragile, full of life

I will slow down for you
Admiring your beauty
Worshiping your colors

And so it is, my tiny flower
I thank you for this light

Stirring the Sauce, Getting the Guns to Jimmy

It was so on. I was still pretty tweaked, but it was on. Kaufman was fixing me up with an inexpensive low priority standby on Alaska. LF began importing every Beatle album ever recorded onto my brand new MacBook. Cruised by Shytowns for a special blend of surf swag. Spoke with Conrad about Wilson and meeting John Lennon. Made time to visit Meisha on the West Side to feel everything Dog. Had a chat with Kevro. Squared up with my anesthesiologist. Ran into Hoover and had a laugh. Picked up the high end sunscreen from Boney. Drove to Merced CA to buy up the remaining 100 gallons of Biowash Natural Deck Oil on the entire West Coast. Handed the house key to Bids and I was off to spend 48 hours with Omar & Milky before leaving the U.S.

Or so I thought. The text from coach sort of caught me by surprise. He wanted to know my availability for Saturday, January 15th. Feeling noticeably better, I texted back the half-word ‘Poss’. Short for ‘I guess it’s possible’. He went on to text that he got word the SC Crew were stacking the roster and if I was still in town and wasn’t too frail, The Rebels were in need.

When the 3B’s are on the pitch together, their record over the past couple of years is like 60-3. Historic-like numbers I know. They had a winning streak one time that was like 35 in a row. This particular Saturday would be no different. Biscuit capped the usual trick while Bruiser took care of everything else. Unfortunately Bird was about as bad as you’ll ever see him. The meter maid must have seen his play through the stadium fence and decided to leave a $43 ticket on the windshield of his 2002 Ford E-250. Didn’t matter to him. We got the W and the going away party was all of a sudden at my house.

On Monday, January 17, 2011, my youngest sister dropped me off at San Jose International for a 7:30pm flight to LAX. I had two final hours to think about what I had forgotten to buckle up. I emailed The Vaird to tell him I forgot to set up his highly anticipated Friday bread delivery. It also dawned on me that I was purposely leaving town without paying my Marketing Manager or the fantasy debt that I owed my Dentist and some kook called MYTH. Their loss. My fragile mind was spinning like a Dreidel.

I left my boards in Puerto last winter, so I was traveling light. I checked in a backpack full of clothes and things, and carried on a smaller pack full of technology. I bought a $12 Vegetarian Burrito and kept to myself as I thankfully and quietly waited to get out of Dodge.