load up explorer. log into calmail. "sign a petition for the cuevas family," "CED career center meeting," "bush's terrorism failures exposed," "broken english conference registration," "aypal justice demanded rally," and e-mails from helene park, odessa chen, melissa hung, and s. open the one from s. "missing u like hurricanes." (i reply: "missing you like kidnapped children.") don't feel like reading the others, not now anyways. log off calmail. log into hotmail. theatre rice announcements. poetry 4 the people announcements. e-mail from mom in orlando. also, a long e-mail from poet rob richert that deserves a reply. leave a sticky on my monitor. log off hotmail. log into daily kos, ny times, aint it cool news, but don't really read any of the articles. google: blue scholars. avoid the aim. 9:33 pm. shut off monitor. press the computer power switch down for 8 seconds before the thing goes off.
the beach isn't too far. i step out of my house and start walking.
it takes me 18 minutes to get there. i dip my head into the sand and pull up with a generous mouthful.
the waves roll in, what do you think you're doing?
making out with the earth.
you know, there are cigarette butts and used condoms on this beach.
i cough, hack, then pipe back: i'll swallow all the sand if it'll make the ocean just a lil bit larger.
but why would you do that?
well, for the stars, that way they'll see themselves more clearly. that way they'll come out more.
the waves roll back in, laughing like a madman. didn't you used to have grander dreams? dreams of catching a cloud with a fly net and hiding it in your backpack, and calling all the sparrows and robins to come and fly in your backpack, and then teaching the cloud to rain, and then letting trees and grass grow, and then when the sun and the moon finally show up to play in your backpack, dart home, laughing, singing, huffing and puffing, barely able to contain yourself as you give your mom the sky. what happened to those dreams?
man dawg, when did you become so talkative, i shoot back defensively.
we got no one to talk to anymore, the waves sigh.
and i shrug.
why don't you just e-mail me.