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on the shores.............
The water in the pool was a pale imitation
smooth pieces of sculpture...........................of the clear blue lakes of my childhood. white bandages....................I was writing in a crowded notebook the holes that the woodpeckers made............while Marlin designed preoccupied with the application........a series of plaques for his recently augmented cactus collection, his gaze lingered................................and Owen read the local Sunday paper. brown grass on the hills...It was spread acoss his substantial stomach, the holes in the cactus..............and as he read stray pages escaped blood stains..............to the cracked concrete that surrounded the pool Alvarado salt river........................"When are you going to make breakfast?" low flying planes.............Marlin asked. superimposed on on unnatural disasters............ the words that were written in the painting.... the smell of the leather couch........ for as long as I could remember....................... I could almost feel his hands..................... under the table in Cabo......................... sopapillas...................... mustard colored tiles............... the long walk into town.................. the sound that the lizards made..............
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