i stretched out my arms in an awkward angle and he moved in to be embraced. over his shoulder, i watched my own puffy face in his car's dusty window.

-- sometimes i feel like life is just one long series of these. these hellos and goodbyes.

-- i know. you think we'd have worked it out by now. that we'd have figured something out by this point. and gotten it right.



on my way home it rained. people in california do not know how to drive in inclement weather. i saw twelve totaled cars in six separate accidents within a mile on the interstate. the wrecked people walked around holding blankets over their heads, staring out into the rain. the amtrak pacific surfliner had stopped on the tracks just beyond the highway. the two giant domes of the nuclear power plant rested like frog eyes peeking over the ocean. police lights in the review mirrors. a rainbow struck the landscape in the east. i laughed a little, but it did not strike me as any sign.