Category: Love
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Poetry Prompter
An assortment of job titles over the years: mussel farmer, ghostwriter, roving flower seller, guerrilla-art-instigator, body double, phone book deliverer, pâté promoter, attendance goddess, canine physical therapist, living sculpture, Ferrari driver, Instant Poetry Booth operator, Literary Lounge host, neighborhood association president. But my favorite title by far is Poetry Prompter. Hired by the Washington State…
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Cleaning
There’s a big difference between cleaning an abode you own versus one you rent. I was cranky and disgusted. A cockroach had leaped out of the tostada bag onto my lap. My bare lap. Then scurried onto the towel I was sitting on, a pretty blue one with fish. I did not want squashed cucaracha on my…
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Sounds
Dolphins in my swimmin’ hole! Well, theirs, yeah? The whole ocean. I hear them before I see them, breathing. Hoosh hoosh. Standing on a small hill overlooking the calm Sea, I turn toward the sound. Hoosh hoosh hoosh. A pod! Such joy. They swim south around the point, out of sight. Sunrise. More excellent sounds: “Alliterative tour de force.”…
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Fishing
“Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel. It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…
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Swingin’ on a (Gulf)Star
To get to Habibi, you must pass Enchantment, Namaste, Alley Cat, and Go Dog Go! Every single time I return to her — from swimming or grocery shopping or marina business — I grin, relieved she’s still floating, amazed that she’s mine. Yep, it’s dawning on me that, after 42 years of searching, I finally…
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Step Away
“Step away from my brother’s grave,” I say. Two women have approached his headstone while I am at the water spigot by the road. One has her phone out and leans over, snapping photos. The other picks up the bubble wand lying next to a large lit candle. They ignore me. “Step away from my…
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Dusk
A faint path lopes along the top of the isthmus that separates the mooring lagoon from the sea. I didn’t notice it for a month, and trudged the rougher scree that tried to throw me off balance. Imagine my delight one evening, in the slanting rays, to find an easier way. And it was always…
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Tink
Habibi has a side-kick, Tinkerbell the dinghy. Tink for short, rhyming with ‘dink’, which is what some folks call their dinghies. She’s a wooden rowboat with oars. “You need a motor,” said Francisco from the guard shack. I was returning with provisions from the big city (Loreto, about 18 highway miles away, population 20K). “I am…
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In Praise of Floating Boat Hooks
A piece of advice: given the choice of letting go of the boat hook or releasing the mooring line, always release the mooring line! Otherwise the current and Habibi’s momentum will wrench the boat hook from your grasp (which you’ve used to catch the line), and you will watch with dismay as both line and hook…
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Heard
Anxiety is finally taking a back seat. Feels like years that she’s been driving me around. But now I have a home — Habibi of the Sea. And time and space to write. A publisher contacted me recently. She’s interested in Letters to Lulu, the epistolary novella I penned in 2013, the same year I evacuated…
words & art by shé 