Written
In two books at
the CircleRock Lawn Tennis Club (hands
down his absolutely most favourite place to be in this seaside town)
As yet untitled:
Tonight,
the fog coming in, curling over the courts on its way, waif-like. The soft, slow
moving fog Mother's touch, her arms about me and mine swinging through the misty
night.
Here
we laugh in equal measure of failure and success, wedged happily between the
hill "Hiyoriyama" on one side and the Pacific on the other.
In
this firm and floating space
time
wears those laughing grooves where it’s least expected. As it lingers in us,
lungs filling with the moist halogen haze.
I
feel it. Her love. Always and especially today. The ocean air, to me, is always
tinged with the odour of watermelon. The last course of our picnics by that
windy lake so long ago.