Day 851, October 31, 2022
Indiscriminate is the memory feature on my phone, a holiday in Culebra, that October snow storm, a grown child in her evil bunny costume, a dog long gone, a happy day in a previous marriage, playing bass on the wood porch of the old house, baby chicks, before they were eaten by wild animals, a smoky recording booth with blue lit faces, standing in the cold ocean pretending to read a paper, red hair blowing atop the Space Needle. A pen I dropped that skirted across the rock and blew into a glacial lake. The sound a Big Wheel makes when tied to the back of a black Huffy with the number 25 emblazoned on its racing tag. It wasn’t really a Big Wheel, but a Spinout 360. Almost the same sound though. Sitting in the driveway after my first prom. The velvety soft front bench seat of the Buick. My first kiss ever. My first real kiss, not counting the time with Emmeline because we were just kids and took no pleasure in it, we were just trying to get to some astronomically