I have a friend who lives in a
garden estate within sailing
sound of the Tomales Bay and in
scent of the Pacific Ocean,
whom I tease because he is very
fair and yet writes poetry. This
is akin, it seems to me, to skate-
boarding uphill, which many would
see as some miraculous trick by a
figure of scintillating endowment,
but from which I'd flinch, as em-
bracing an avoidable difficulty.
One likes to see invention in the
same light as love, a pursuit one
can decline in favor of the bus.
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