It was the night of 5pm. We were driving cuz you said to drive. The sun goes behind the mountains this time of year not the ocean. The remains of its light glimmered in salt air or pollution by the time we got to the sand and it was spectacular.
Then in slowing to darkness a canyon drive with a bookstore with a Buddha in it. An overlook with a bad violinist practicing unseen nearby as teenagers fingered each other's hearts. I held you close to me like I always want to do. We made jokes about the Valley half sparkling below us, you said everything from Van Nuys to Woodland Hills was ours.
Some trace of the sun north made the sky red, it was dark but the sky was still somehow red now over the mountains. I felt inspired, what a ridiculous thing to say except for the fact that it never happens that way anymore. That inspired feeling was like a generous lighthouse in youth until I took it for granted and it became the default but as the default there became no lift from it.
A haphazard bar we swung our car back toward on Ventura Boulevard, I had spent thirty plus years missing it but with you we were found. The bartenders were part time porn stars with incredible personalities while the old ladies in heavy make up got rowdy and cat called the forgetful gentlemen sinking into their seats at the old tired but alive counter. It was so alive in that old establishment no matter how dry the carrot cake or dire the karaoke.
We played darts at the place next door. I would've paid to make that feeling stay stay stay but you know how it goes - to appreciate them you have to let them go and all that - so that they return and all that - the way those darts sped through the air and stuck to the straw or cork like bee sting arrows thrown by pleasure hunters talking in between our throws about our pains. It's like, they are only just starting to creep in here this morning in late September but it's like the Santa Ana Winds the way I love you, gentle, warm, powerful and strong right into the eye of chaos, a fire in Malibu started by them, I grew up in a trailer on a burned down lot at the top of a hill in Malibu, and I love you like a fire in Malibu.
