Day twelve.
No work today, thank you.
A good friend stopped by, grew up next door to her. Two doors.
She stayed the afternoon, warming my heart and memory.
Catherine made Jambalaya. We sipped beer in the shade, and a bit of my home came back.
24 years since seeing her.
Later fell asleep on the rug, naked.
Orph breathing into my neck.
Orph naked too.
Catherine took pictures.
She said I looked like a fallen baby sparrow.
A peaceful three days, it has been.
No work, no train, no hotels.
I've hardly left the house.
Leftover pizza for dinner.
Hot from the oven.
The roof of my mouth burned and tattered,
like the interior roof of a '65 Lincoln.
Laying here, under my reading light, I can hear the trucks braking on 101.
Music blowing over from the fair.
Wind from the east.
Catherine reading with one eye closed.
The days getting ever so shorter again.
The shadows, longer.
Tomorrow 200 miles to San Jose.
Train #14.
The Coast Starlight.
Day 12
