We ended up in a little house on Cabrillo Ave in Venice. 800 square feet. It was the first house that I developed my stupid home repair tricks on. And all the people came. David and Jim and Angela and Loraine and Roberta and Bobbie and Lucy and Judy and Steve and Kathy and Mike and Elena and Judy and John from next door and Blanca. People would just come by and we would cook and hang out and talk and write. The twins came and then another one. Parties came and went, we read purposely bad poetry to one another, I lectured on Robert Frost in this back yard. And had birthday parties and kid parties and we sang Christmas Carols around the block and scared the crack dealers off their corners and banged pots on New Years Eve.
Kyle passed out drunk in our front yard. Rex and Marilyn got fixed up there and got married in our front yard.
We watched John and his boyfriend die next door. And the crazy man yelled at the twins and their whistles in our front yard. Sco helped me put the keys back on the keyboard that the twins had removed and he read Green Eggs and Ham backwards to them on our floor. And it was a really great time. I may still have the shirt.
No comments:
Post a Comment