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it was cold out and i smoked a cigarette while i walked.
went to this place called sunken city.
it's on the coast. overlooks the pacific. the harbor channel. and you can see catalina off in the distance.
gotta go under a fence to get to my place.
used to be easier, but the authorities put up a better fence.
don't know all the details, but from what i've heard, the place used to be part of a military base in town.
but it sunk.
literally.
fell off and sunk into the ocean and all that's left now are hunks of asphalt suspended by earthen pyres. there's a few old palm trees and what looks like a railroad track and it's very strange and quiet and that's why i like it.
maybe i like it more now.
because of the new fence.
now the gangbangers who used pound their malt liquor and smoke their mendo-blendo don't come as often.
today no one was around.
just me and the sea.
the breeze. it smelled good. salt and kelp and wild fennel.
sometimes i get ideas there.
at sunken city.
but i didn't get any ideas today.
already had some things on my mind.
an imaginary conversation in my head.
he/she.
so i walked up onto one of those asphalt pyres and just looked out to sea.
felt like one of those indians. or maybe a spanish conquistador.
did they do the same thing?
years ago.
it was calm out there-the water that is.
no white caps.
smooth and rolling.
like glass.
a fishing boat was drifting near kelp.
could hear the guys shooting the shit.
but i didn't listen. just looked.
and the sun was orange red. glowing.
the fog rolled in.
a blanket. it got colder. the sun kept sinking.
and sinking.
but i watched the guys in the boat: they pulled in their lines and i think they drank some beer.
their boat bobbed in the water just right.
just in that place where the sun comes down and hits the sea. broken by wind.
almost static.
and the sun kept dipping.
the boat took off.
back to the harbor, i guess.
and i left sunken city.
under the fence.
scraping a knee.
passed several people.
some old geezers.
a middle-aged guy with a poodle.
a pudgy gordita.
this black kid.
and they all looked out to sea.
just quiet.
hands in their pockets.
quiet.
walked a little more. to the old lighthouse.
and before i knew it, the sun had set.
gone.
it wasn't dark. but the sun was gone.
just like that.
and the people still looked out to sea.
the geezers. the guy. the gordita. and the black kid.
it was cold now and i didn't a have jacket.
so i went back to my car and smoked another cigarette and drove home under the fog.
