February 01, 2007
Page 28
When I'm in that 19-step world, I could win a prize for being the number-1 polite drunk. It's simple. All it takes is accepting the truth of being drunk. No ifs, ands, or buts. Just the simple fact: I am drunk.
That's how I become so super-polite. The earliest-rising starling and the last boxcar over the bridge.
Five... six... seven...
At the eighth step I pause, open my eyes, and take a deep breath. A faint sound. Like an ocean breeze flowing through a rusty wire screen. Now that I think of it, it's been a while since I've seen the ocean.
It was July 24, 6:30am. It was the ideal time of year for the beach and an ideal time of day. There wasn't yet anybody there to ruin the beach. The footprints of seagulls were scattered across the beach like old pine needles in the wind.
The beach, huh?
Once more, I began walking. Forget the beach, already. Those things have already vanished way into the past.
Posted by tim at February 1, 2007 11:50 PM
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