3.25.2007

LOVE STORY FOR SUNDAY...

just a quick preface, if I may. The next round of posts under this particular heading will be about the time I spent in Coronado, California, in the early seventies. I thought that, at that time, and maybe even today, there are more transplanted people there than natives, or so it seemed to me. Most of the people I met, made friends with and one that I fell in love with, were from someplace else, just as I. There was a comfort to be found in being close to someone who, like me, was a stranger in that mystical place that more often than not, let slip that fanciful facade and showed itself to be a singularly hard and cruel place at times, and it was easy to fall in with someone who felt as out of place as I. We met in the luncheonette where she worked, and she lived in an apartment over that place, across the street from the Pacific Ocean. Just by some chance, it was she who waited on me one chilly early winter night. Her name was Karen. She was from New Mexico...

Just a moment in Coronado, California, late at night, in winter...


She led me by the hand, into the dark of her apartment over the luncheonette. I stood still in the mystery of her kitchen, while she closed and locked the door. She knew her way around in the dark, I was as good as the amateur blind. She walked up and put her arms around my waist, pulling me to her. I put my hands between the waterfall of her hair and the back of her neck. Her hair was scented with the chill of the outside night air, and her skin was smooth. She was wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt. It was winter.
wander with me...

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