15 May 2008. Warm already at dawn, puffy bus trundles on down the road. Asian man in pink shirt, with cell phone to ear, strolling under the 7-eleven eves. Door open on dark green Camry--two legs emerge from shaded interior.
Shaded interiors. Of language, of love. An overhang, a lean-to--shingles and thatch--narrow saplings bent just so, gathered together at their tops in a kind of primitive wikiup--Paiutes and Pomos, in what's now called Willets, a fish-fillet of a town, fresh in the skillet of Highway 101, man's ribbon, heading north...
Autumn rains, can they be far behind...
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