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"More p'ease!" #2

 Before scarce we knew it, we were on the edge of the continent, in one of the most beautiful and port-less parts of America.  Westport may once have called itself the largest port south of San Francisco, but the Largest Port south of San Francisco never had a port:  it had a contraption of poles balanced on rocks not-yet-worn-down to sand, under which gangways might be lowered to deck level, but even they were long-gone.

There was the land, and the sea, irritating each other, as they have always done, each wanting only what it knew how to do.  Westport is a tiny place, even with a street called, "Omega", and a highway north and south, only, and a store with sandwiches and necessities and a gas pump on the porch.

Daniel had found a fine house, from which we could see--far out, but not so far--migrating whales, pausing as we were doing, because there was food out there, down there.  We could scarce see them blow when they came up for air, and their backs and tails when they went down again, but we did see them, huge even far off, as we rivaled each other in our desire to be the first to spot them again.  "More, p'ease!", as Elliot might have said, but she didn't; not about the whales.  She was eating, instead.  We thought it.






Our brains shifted us into low gears,
taking our clues from tidal rhythms,
hurrying nothing,
but as surely as rock becomes sand,
moving to the place
where rock became sand,
at the edge of the continent.

"Nothing lasts forever,
only the mountains and the sea."



We felt small; part of a large place; part of an old story.































Mari read to Elliot.
It wasn't necessary:
Elliot knew the story, anyway,
but that wasn't the point, anyway.








When we wanted to, again, we walked down to the port--Westport--where they had brought timber to the sea, to the wooden boats daring the rocks still there.  The boats were gone.  The port was gone.  New timber was growing on the hills behind us.  Some of the flowers were new, too.



Elliot picked flowers.
We admired Elliot.

"More p'ease!", I thought.









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