High and Dry


Today my car and I head northeast on a return route to Denver. Tim and I rode the roller coaster on the Santa Monica Pier earlier. The ocean shines today like giant chunks of blue and white glitter; sailboats cloud their way across it. Hazy, wet air seeps into my head thickening it like pudding. I don't want to drive. I don't want to go. I want to lay on the beach with hot sand pressing into my back. I want to see the sun drop into the sea like a fiery iris disappearing beneath the heavy blue lid of night. It will be relieving to see familiar faces and clearer highways, but this adventure into the forward past has my heart jangled.

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