Saturday, August 01, 2009

Louis wanders the neighborhood with us now after dark. He walks off-leash, trots, like a small, intelligent dog, executes a series of ever-widening circles around L. and I as we move in the cool breeze, occasionally slipping off to investigate a particularly appealing driveway or yard and then galloping along to catch up. Basement apartment neighbors who've met him on one of his 5am getaways -- apres chewing through the window screen, or its duct tape and chicken wire replacement -- come up to say hello. He chirps; briefly suffers being stroked and/or scratched behind the ears; is gone again in a flash.

A local rat flies up a garage drainpipe and perches in the rain gutter, gazing over the edge like a shipwreck survivor in a life raft anxiously examining a big grey fin in the distance.

The bright stars overhead, the same Big Dipper we saw in Nevada in January, half wheeled around the sky.

Sweet warm blackberries.

L's strong hand, the gentle pressure of her ring's rough face against my fingers.

"He considered the stars and was moved by their distance." (Probably misremembered Cormac McCarthy line)

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