| Got a nice text
from Maui around noon, informing
me it was another picture perfect day. I
wondered if my present situation was at all
imperfect as I tried to place the beach in the
picture, so tiny and alluring on the palm-sized
screen, sunny blue a bonedeep memory.
I wanted to text back, "This is where I am!" and
attach a snapshot of the three dudes stalking
where I was checking out with 25 sheets of green
drywall, a 62 pound bucket of mud and 500 feet
of paper tape. They were harshly backlit by a
backdrop of unremitting grey, silhouetted,
sinister, joking in a language I don't
understand while behind them an old man squatted
in ancient Asian wisdom awaiting curbside
pickup. None of it seemed grim.
I was on a mission, had a simple job to do and
was looking forward to it.
There was a laughing desperation in the air,
the trabajadors at the entrance
waiting for a miracle in the meantime played a game on the sidewalk,
laughing wherever the
Here I am! everything seemed to say all
day. The key. The mirror. The cart. The
weight. The soup. The sign. The hat. The cane.