some thoughts before the fog

the fog rolls in from clover point and only the pink cherry trees shall keep the integrity of their color. the sun is about to be swallowed and the mood will change suddenly. i write about the tension between memory and imagination and wonder if they are so different. Is not one dependent on the other? I would have to say the imagination is the stronger and least dependent, but memory can be its fuel.

on saturday we will be taken to a beach up island by one of the v-dubs and we will light a fire and dance around it like warlocks, brew and all. he will let the swell swallow him and come in like a fish with the waves to land and for a moment forget to breathe air. i will walk to the waterfall where the rush and crashing muffles speech entirely and the cool mossy rock walls convince me i must have been a salamander in my last life...