okay, let's move to mexico by Kaley Morlock

It was a day off and a new dress later; the morning breezy...running the munchkins where all the Valley's wives go to lunge in sync with prancing collies. A quick smoke and coffee break to stimulate the artistic inclinations, then my love and I meditate with newly purchased paint brushes, acrylics, rectangular paper-- with scrap inserts, empty necklace locks, linens and hemp.

Champagne and O.J. at the nude beach near Stinson. After finding a lonely flipper wedged between the graves of dormant boulders we settle, perched, on Orange Buddha. The tides roll in and I wonder how the moon and boats and gravity and critters tirelessly visit every shoreline intimately and sometimes rudely but always without sentiment. And precisely how does Otis Redding sit on top of the bay watchin the tide roll away?--And is that salt water, too? A woman, perhaps with answers to that and more, sews with her back to the ocean, remaining there when its dusk.
