sun

saturday in october. it's not the Fall i remember. it's 85 degrees. walking down the block produces a sweat. I consider going to my roof where i have access to the entire city at my feet, but know i would bake.

i wish i had a car, i would go to tomales bay and eat oysters in the sun.

i have an assignment to hold back for a week. to contain myself. to see if i can.

the harshness in that conversation i mentioned last entry was not about me and the speaker, but about me and the past.

he kept downing the wine to make the words flow easier. to be able to say things he felt i had to hear. to get past the moment where i looked like i'd been slapped.

he said 'someone has to say these things'

it's probably true.

i'm going to go find a patch of sun.

swelter.

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