Even though I'm way too feeble to
make the trip now, I envy them
that long ride down the 5 from
San Francisco to
L.A., that endless Bakersfield stretch and up over
the grapevine, how I used to love it. They've gone
to empty my apartment and I envy them that too. It
would be such fun to look at everything and say
"keep it" or "throw it away" (or probably "give it
away"). What will be left, I wonder: maybe my
barwa (that greatest of loungers with its
black sheepskin cover), probably Mom's
table though I don't know where it will go. They
will decide, not
me. Not me. Not me -hooray! My framed
posters, some of them (poetry, the
IWW). I don't care about the little movie-house or
the Picasso one so much), and I kind of hope my
futon on a frame that Ev bought me so long ago, my
favorite bed. Those I
might decide to keep but if they
decide to discard them I will not
be sad. It is nice not to have to
make decisions, very nice and to enjoy
that ride down the 5 and back again in
memory without having to try to
endure it. I'll sit here and look out the window at
a brick-topped block wall holding back the steep weedy hill where
deer come down to nibble our
impatiens and I walk out to sketch
my favorite thistle and
the silk tree. Too muggy today to
do that; a good time now for one last
gaze out the window and a nice
nap.
make the trip now, I envy them
that long ride down the 5 from
San Francisco to
L.A., that endless Bakersfield stretch and up over
the grapevine, how I used to love it. They've gone
to empty my apartment and I envy them that too. It
would be such fun to look at everything and say
"keep it" or "throw it away" (or probably "give it
away"). What will be left, I wonder: maybe my
barwa (that greatest of loungers with its
black sheepskin cover), probably Mom's
table though I don't know where it will go. They
will decide, not
me. Not me. Not me -hooray! My framed
posters, some of them (poetry, the
IWW). I don't care about the little movie-house or
the Picasso one so much), and I kind of hope my
futon on a frame that Ev bought me so long ago, my
favorite bed. Those I
might decide to keep but if they
decide to discard them I will not
be sad. It is nice not to have to
make decisions, very nice and to enjoy
that ride down the 5 and back again in
memory without having to try to
endure it. I'll sit here and look out the window at
a brick-topped block wall holding back the steep weedy hill where
deer come down to nibble our
impatiens and I walk out to sketch
my favorite thistle and
the silk tree. Too muggy today to
do that; a good time now for one last
gaze out the window and a nice
nap.
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