Malibu

Dawn bled. I was up and out the door. I found myself driving in Pacific Palisades. The roads twisted in and turned on themselves. God tied them in a knot. Undone. I nosed the truck up a steep side street. Fence. Construction equipment. The air was cold and everything was still. It was early. A square pool sat at the rear of the property. It looked like an invitation…  Later, I was at a meeting. My phone vibrated. Angelo. He left a message and invited me and a few people to skate. Driving up the PCH, I looked at the bluffs above me. There were huge palm trees that arched above the houses perched precariously on the cliffs. I saw a winding road to my right. Decision. I was soon on the crest of the hill. The ocean spread out beside me… huge and strong. Unknowing. Uncaring. Its surface hid its beauty and carnage. To me, it was majestic.

A burned out house was fenced off behind me. Calamity with an ocean view. A lonely red brick chimney sprouted out of the foundation and murmured to me. Cold nights. Love. Family. It had warmed so much… now, nothing. The pool was fenced separately. Keep Out. No Trespassing. I looked in on things. The lonely collector. I’ve searched and found a million broken things over the years. Lives. Dreams. Possessions. All the same. I’m the one stray voice… how far can it reach? There was little to be done here. The pool was good but filled with soil, plants and debris. Gravel and glass crunched under my heels as I turned away once more.

I arrived at Angelo’s. Lance Mountain, John Lucero, Pat Ngoho, Walt, Henry, Chris, Trevor and William Sharp were on hand. Life is good. Friendship. Food. An afternoon sun spilled from behind the clouds… I shrugged off the darkness and relics of the morning pool hunt. They soon fell into the past again, where they belonged. The new overtook the old. The past… left on a dusty shelf until we dare bring it out again. Thanks to William Sharp for the images. Skate - Ozzie