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Walking Meditation

February 9, 2011

How I love walking the silent beach at night, a mute crab, nervous as a gull.  The mist my grey hat, the sand grabbing at my shoes, coming home with me, always a reminder of where I’ve been.

I remember long ago, Lisa in the Village, her badly tuned guitar, our cigarettes (when you could do that) in that seedy motel room.  I never knew what she saw in me, but I think at the time I was honest with her: I wanted to fuck her, wanted to get “inside” her — she let me do the former, but the latter was always held at bay.

The stroll on the beach reminds me of “the two most important lessons in life: to make love honestly & to reflect.”  I’m not sure poor, cold Lisa ever did either.  Her demons drove her beyond my reach.  She sleeps & I walk the beach in silence.

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From → Ponderings

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