By T. Johnson


We drove through the rain and darkness,
along the shore from Manchester to Port Orchard.
We stopped just outside of the village at a pier,
and walked out to where a group of rainjacketed fisherpeople
were pulling up small gleaming silvery creatures from the bay.
We looked into their buckets,
to find big-eyed squid looking back at us,
as they lay in a collective death-squirm.
You said you'd like to eat one sometime,
as the wind and rain pelted down and drenched our hair.

I could feel the wetness oozing down my neck.


I was thinking of that desert night with you under the full moon.
The cliffs and mountains were silhouetted against the starry blue-black sky.

Our campfire popped and crackled long into the night until only a glow
We rose early, and drove down into the canyon. I fell asleep as we reached
the dream river,
and awoke years later with the smell of desert sage burned into my memory.

Some memories never fade.