12.29.17

It was the place with
year-round
Christmas lights dangling
from the ceiling
and the jade aquarium
that spanned an entire wall.
Beer was four dollars. We
drank until the ocean beyond

the pitch of windows
became the only
audible note in the entire
world, a single note

sustained like lightning,
seen and felt and heard
delayed. There was some-
thing between us, an energy.

Within the folds of my
tuna melt, I felt
for you an affection
greater than celery

and mayonnaise, greater,
even than, if you can believe it,
the four dollar beers,
which, according to the

empty glass corpse lined
up like execution victims
along our table’s outer edge,
and since no one seemed

to work at this place, this
dream, this chrysalis of vivid
lights and jade water, they
sat there unattended, reminding

us of the work that we had done–
anyway, it was good work, and the
point is I loved you more than
those four dollar beers, which,

for all purposes and intents
were, at that time, all I
was living
for.

Written at 8:08 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.