Tuesday, October 23, 2012
No you Road Atlas addict.
I’m not referring to a highway.
It’s a special place at a special time.
Back in the bye-gone past called yesterday.
A Spanish mission on a hill.
Split into apartments I think three or four.
With its terracotta roof and bleached white walls,
And a huge, arched, heavy wooden door.
One was my Brother-in-laws apartment.
He shared this Alamo with three ladies I recall.
He swears there was no funny business,
Yeah right, I’m sure he had a ball.
We slept on a waterbed there for the first time.
Just once, my back was killing me in the morning.
“I told you things were different out here.”
I should have heeded my wife’s warning.
Walking down the hill towards the beach
Past the Classic Movie Theater, past the Jesus Pizza place.
They would make any kind of pie you wanted,
but be sure to give thanks … and say grace.
We walked down the narrow path
Along a cliff face to the stony beach.
There were people 60 and 70 years old
Chasing Frisbees that were tossed out of reach.
Listening to Beach Boys music. Wearing wet suits
and doing tumble salts into the waves.
Young and old were intent on having a ball
Until the day they awoke in their graves.
On the last night we went to a 5 star restaurant
in the place called Cardiff by the sea.
I thought I looked fine in my three-piece suit,
but everyone just stared at me.
Our Maitre-de in his flip-flops,
our waitress in her terrycloth shorts.
On the beach the guests were playing “Over the line.”
It was a game like “beach softball” of sorts.
We toasted our host and thanked him
For his hospitality by the sea.
But we yearned to get back to old New York.And our life of normalcy.