Driving East on the 56. Away from the ocean it felt like rubber bands tied to my legs and the salty water but the water wouldn’t hold. So there I was. Wet October night, she was there with me, and I was driving. The radio lamented:
So long to this cold, cold part of the world.
I could’ve sung along, but some songs aren’t complimentary; I appreciated it instead. The sounds dropped into my thoughts like water in a well, rippling my memories. Consciousness took more desirable forms-

“You sure Melanie? Well then take these I guess, in case I don’t come back”
I handed her the keys, joking of course, but her face shrunk in distaste.
“Ohhhh. Don’t say that.”
A whispered whimper grumbled on her lips. I was already walking out into the fog. It was like nothing I had ever seen, so rich and full and fluffed, light seemed to lose its way. Driving down the hill to the ocean we lost sight of the moon, and the house lights across the lagoon. It was just us in the narrow strip they allotted for parking. And I walked down onto the beach, sandals with socks, ready to be stripped by some being that thrives in the most peculiar of environments. A mental construction of course, but it nearly had me fooled. I saw a rigid insect, geometrically construed on the smooth wet sand. Froth at its mandibles, I grew frightened. A lobster cage with seaweed stuck on its rusted metal bars was the appropriate response, and I allowed it to pass-

So long to this bone bleached part of the world.
“Oooo. Can we take the side-roads home?”
“Of course.” I couldn’t deny a longer ride.
I took the next exit and turned left. I knew the roads, and it was hardly a side route for me. Just liked for her to enjoy it-

The ocean was impossible to see, just thick grey moisture, and when the crescendo of falling waves was replaced by the sizzle of the foamy water snaking its way up the sand, all you could see was a moving boundary, stealthily advancing, swallowing, gulping and reshaping. It was truly remarkable. Such noise was possible at something so invisible. The air was so thick with water that I felt each molecule pop as the waves crashed and their sounds echoed through each sequential pop.
There were other people, but they were in their cars, about 50 yards back, pointed towards the ocean on the narrow strip. Some had their lights on, and although not effective in the fog, it did cast a halo over me of reflected light. It was as if the battery generated lamination refused to go any further. Any further than myself, standing at the edge of the ocean as the waves tumbled. It made a half circle with myself at the center and a radius of probably 20 to 30 feet.

Then I saw Melanie. She was walking down the sand, and her silhouette glided towards me.
“It’s amazing isn’t it?” she said.
“Freaking incredible. Look you cant even see the moon.” But she didn’t look, instead her big round eyes looked over my shoulder at the loud ocean.
“Oh my god. That is amazing. I mean, you can’t even see it,” she said, walking past me.
We appreciated it some more, noted that we could see a few stars, even though the moon was invisible between us and the fog, and how peculiar it is that those stars, however many millions of light years away, still poke through when the traffic light 500 yards down the road doesn’t.
“What is that?”
I said it was a lobster cage.
“Oh, that’s pretty cool. Well, not really, but I’ve never seen one before. We should move it though, someone might step on it.”
I grumbled. Thinking of how it being low tide, someone could step on it and puncture their foot with a probable case of tetanus. It being October the chances were slim, but it wasn’t all too big of a deal and I dragged it up the sand.
She always was a good girl. She would have done it if I hadn’t. Good girls do that kind of stuff. I always open her door first but she slides in and always has my door open by the time I get over there even though sometimes I take the first bite of the candy bar or drink the water from the bottle first, offering it to her second. She still opens that door up like clockwork and I’m a grateful s.o.b. for it, only after I take my drink though.
We had walked a ways back up to the car to dump the lobster cage. I could see the green light coupled with a yellowish pedestrian fixture.
“Looks like it’s clearing up.” I said. “Sad. I really liked it.”
“Don’t be sad. We got to be part of the magic. It was really cool.”
“Yea. I guess I just wanted to see it last longer than this.”

So long to this salt soaked part of the world…
I stepped down as president of Antarctica
CAN’T BLAME ME, DON’T BLAME ME, don’t.

We were getting close to home. She was asleep resting on my right arm as I drove with my left. It made me vengefully upset when I hit bumps in the road as they could potentially wake her. I thought whether or not the people paving the roads would really consider my girlfriends slumber. Probably not.

We walked back up the sand and got in the car. I was still upset that the fog had to lift, even if it was just ever so slightly. Melanie was wiping sand off her feet and then we drove.


Peculiar how rich that fog looked. So full and inviting, yet when you walked through it, it seemed to dissipate, scared of presence. I never felt like I was a part of it, with it, but rather in it. It covered me sure, but I wanted to be with it. I might just appreciate it next time, and watch from a distance.
So long to this cold, cold part of the world.
The song ended and I pulled the emergency brake up. The ride was over and I walked home.