A concrete dock,
somewhere near the end,
illuminating alone
the first twenty feet
of ocean mystery.

The fish come to the light,
as we do.
Forever curious.

The clear sensation of floating quietly in eternity.

..........................................................................................



Coyotes and fireflies and fish,
like small transparent dinosaurs.


My friends do yoga in the morning.
Awakening their muscles,
connecting to their breath and balance.
My routine is different.
Add three extra spoonfulls of folgers and three packets of sugar. You’ll end up with mud instead of water.
Give me a place to sit, a cup of coffee, and when I’m connected, a pen.

This morning I’m joined by a gently stirring lagoon, the droning sounds of insects, and a well off Mexican family cooking breakfast on a grill outside the peach coloured Hotel Pesca.

Last night our plans to sleep under the stars were thwarted by a first rate batallion of flying blood suckers. So, half past midnight we pull up here. Ready to pay too much for a room with too many cockroaches and no air to speak of. We slept well, if somewhat dampened.