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In my ear he whispered, "Give me the flashlight,...In my ear he whispered, "Give me the flashlight, boss In his I whispered back: "Can't I started along the path to the back of the house, the one that would take me to the boardwalkAt the end of that boardwalk, a thousand or so years ago, I'd met the big man I was now leaving behind He had been sitting under a striped umbrellaHe had offered me iced green tea, very coolingAnd he had said, So - the limping stranger arriveth at last And now he goeth, I thoughtThey were watching me "Muchacho!" Wireman called I thought he was going to ask me to come back so we could think about this a little more, talk it over a little moreBut I had underestimated him "Vaya con Dios, mi hombre I gave him a final wave balenciaga bag and walked around the corner of the house iii 1097 So then I took my last Great Beach Walk, as limping and painful as my first ones along that shell-littered shoreOnly those had been by the rosy light of early morning, when the world was at its most still, the only things moving the mild lap of the waves and the brown clouds of peeps that fled before meTonight the wind roared and the waves raged, not alighting on the shore but committing suicide on itThe rollers farther out were painted chrome, and several times I thought I saw the Perse from the corner of my eye, but each time I turned to look, there was nothingTonight there was nothing on my part of the Gulf but moonlight I lurched along, replica cartier tank watches flashlight gripped in my hand, thinking of the day I had walked here with Ilse She had asked me if this was the most beautiful place on earth and I had assured her that no, there were at least three others that were more beautifulbut I couldn't remember what I'd told her those others were, only that they were hard to spellWhat I remembered most clearly was her saying I deserved a beautiful place, and time to rest 1098 Tears started to come then, and I let themI had the flashlight in the hand I could have used to wipe them away, so I just let them come iv I heard Big Pink before I actually saw itThe shells under the house had never been so loudI walked a little farther, then stoppedIt was chanel classic purse just ahead of me now, a black shape where the stars were blotted outAnother forty or fifty slow, limping paces, and moonlight began to fill in the detailsAll the lights were out, even the ones I almost always left on in the kitchen and Florida roomThat could have been a power outage caused by the wind, but I didn't think that was it I realized the shells were talking in a voice I recognizedI should have; it was my ownHad I always known that? I suppose I hadOn some level, unless we're mad, I think most of us know the various voices of our own imaginations And of our memories, of courseThey have voices, tooAsk anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dreamAsk anyone tiffany and co bracelets who 1099 blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red)Our memories have voices, tooOften sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark I walked on, leaving tracks behind me that featured one dragging footThe blacked-out hulk of Big Pink grew closerIt wasn't ruined like Heron's Roost, but tonight it was hauntedTonight there was a ghost waitingOr maybe something a little more solid The wind gusted and I looked left, into its pushing forceThe ship was out there now, all right, lightless and silent, its sails so many flapping rags in the wind, waiting Might as well go, the shells said as I stood in the moonlight, now less than twenty yards from cheap mulberry handbags my house2:17 PM - Wednesday, March 3, 2010
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