And yes, we drove over a median strip.
We met up with Cowboy Wayne in front of a greasy spoon looking place that the Wall Street Journal had said had the best burgers in America, but the wait was too long. So he climbed in the truck with us and we headed off in another direction.
Wayne, the first brokie I ever met, still smiling, still a solid mass of joy. We drove deep into the century old neighborhood where he and his partner live in a magnificent old home with an alley out back just big enough for the truck to fit in. Then a couple of steps took us onto the patio of eden. It was simply amazing. Lemon trees, Calamondins, Inpatients, Crowns of Thorns in bloom, Aloe enough to put out a wildfire, you've seen the pictures. We walked about in amazement and there in the back I spied it, and jiggled my finger at it: The Night Blooming Sirius. The plant I had compared Rich to in SF. Well of course Wayne would have one.
And then inside, the long leaved ficus tree, two stories tall, like something out of Dr. Seuss, ready to envelope anyone who got close enough and spit them back out a cartoon character. The house full of art, beautiful, vibrant colors and luridness, cats and possums free to come and go as they pleased as long as the weather held. It was just wonderful. I have never seen a chocolate ceiling before.
Wayne loaded us up with plants, each receiving a crown of thorns (as we take up our crosses, huh?) and once the truck was extricated we headed to the cemetery.
It was dusk when we got there, the restaurant was called Six Feet Under, and took its name from the old walled and forested cemetery across the street. The nice bespeckled young lady at the door asked if we would like to sit out on the deck. Hell yeah, it was in the 70's (F) and so on the 8th of December, we three friends sat at a high top table, killing a pitcher of Pabst Blue Ribbon on a gorgeous summer evening, the day dying in the west. Questions and answers flying, phones ringing. More pitchers arriving, like the air itself were not intoxicating enough. I took pictures, so I could remember.
I wished Wayne could have gone on with us, but alas he is still dissertating, but maybe, just maybe, we will be reunited again this summer in Wyoming. Maybe over a plate of bacon straight off the hog at the Main Street Diner in Buffalo, maybe with friends. But you don't forget your first.
The evening took us to a C&W bar were a nice young man with laryngitis tried to help me around the dance floor, fast, fast, slow, a couple of times, bless his heart, it was already too late in the evening for that. But not too late to look out on the multitude that had gathered, and who moved as one, one mind, one heart almost, one love.
And even in the big city, you can still see the stars from the bed of a pick up.
Topic: Shakesthegrounds Rumblings (Read 2630213 times)