16 10 2009
(shortly after I left Mountain View, California for good)
The pool was in the center of Redwood Way Apartments. A palm tree planted by the hump of the kidney leaned out over it. She and I were diving under, grabbing at ankles trying to pull one another down. It was in the small hours and there were a couple of empty beers on the lip. I stopped to let her catch a breath. Looking down onto the courtyard were four stories of identical windows — screened with blistered and swollen mesh breathing in and out with the night — all were black except for hers. The light was on in her living room and I could see the tv bouncing blues and whites off the wall. I held onto the side of the pool, we were in the deep end, and floated her into me. Her lips were pruned and her nipples stuck out sideways. I grabbed a handful thinking, oh god, but your husband is up there watching Star Trek.