violence on the fade

they say portland is the place to retire
and from the looks of things, old folk are flocking.
i was out on a monday, vacationing so lunch was idle
and filled with early bird parties of 2, 4 & 6, splitting
cheescakes and other deserts   eyes on taste
not diet. the other half were hipsters on business
or like us, the too poor to retire. weed vacationing
in the pacific northwest. i'd like to move to portland
plenty of help wanted signs
before this country balkanizes or ussrizes or what
word are we using for civil war and the breakup
of empire these days?
someone wrote about portland in my youth.
i've heard of reed college, the ross island bridge
from jack or brautigan or maybe the electric kool aide
 but i feel like
portland should have been my home.

easy to say, sitting in eric and lori's garden
on the side of a hill that leads down to eastmoreland
golf course. the houses here are phenominal.like us open class,
like the masters, these estates. but like most real estate here
it's vertical, which puts awhole new spin on appropriate yardage.


a lot of these homes are growing lawns but many have
herb gardens flower beds, fruits, bushes
 a wetlands border separates the wilamette river
from humanity, at least here in the bucolic burb
of southeast. it's true, people here walk. a lot.
they ride bikes up hills, they wear helmets,
i saw 2 jeune filles, one in a virgin white
summer frock, carrying skateboards
across a busy intersection.

when my florida ass wanted to turn left
got my break with a stopped bus but damn
a woman crossing and i halt, she waves me on
with a look of pure surprise like hey man,
not gonna walk on that! no one in their right mind
kinda wave so i took it, and waved at her
to thank you. cuz that's what you do in portland
you ask how people are, cuz they asked you
and they mean it and you mean it
and before you know it you find
area 41 the place that never opens
is actually open and you're talking to
the poster child for punk, the guy
that gave courtney love her last name
about his hip replacement surgery
and how it fucked up his life, he lost
his wife, he can't get royalties on downloaded
songs and he will not patronize st joseph's
ever again, when he gets his cancer
diagnosis, he'll go to oregon general
and you nod and deftly make your
escape before he asks you to play drums
set up there, behind the false front see?





**







all day on the way to the pacific i see  ravens
  crows, i tell him, they keep showing up
(. one dogs me now in the garden
as the last of the sun fades from this side
of the mountains) in the clearings the take off
and landings in old growth trees and the steering
wheels of farm machines, fading in the unexpected
sun, they say it's a rainy area, and i've been drizzled
onbut we have mostly sun all the way  to the pacific.
 we pull over right before the national
park. have a smoke. spot wild razzberries hanging a good 3 meters into the brush. . 2 you pickems and so you do. you are chivalrous when you remember to be. i watch the cars spill by on east 26  spot a raven     im calling it now, just landing  across the road.

causually on a small green spot  beside the portland bound cars' airstream. it strobes in and out of view, pecking at nothing, biding time. we move on. ravens are a common bird. they abound at the woods flocks of them, two or three at a time, gather at popular trash bins and alleyways. it's a bird of opportunity. a scavenger. we hike up the cliffside to the light


******

house view. you want to go to the top but friendly strangers  warn  my red  flatlander pigface that we're only about half way to the top they fit portlandiers in polo and nikejust ascended  are currenly descending . i opt out another third of the way, wait in a cove with a view of the water and the big rocks playing together. . that last climb would have been a mudslide in normal conditions, so thanks rain gods for going ion vacation same time as me. there are no crows. no ravens either. you opt out another third of the way up cuz chivalry, and i like that about you.x i  think the forest doesn't like  ravens i think  ravens don't lke the se

down at the beach proper seagulls. at the beach proper birds for the clime so i go on walking along the beach face out to sea, watching the pacific roll and roll into the rocks.
i don't think about birds. i watch the wild water and i put my toes into the shallows that are all that's left of




waves i watched a moment ago, agitated as argonauts speeding to my feet. not so bad so i move todeeper water, maybe the ankles, yes surely it's not so could. a toddler waves comes up to hug  them with ice bucket challenge kisses. then kisses them again with the lips of ice satan so i hop out in actual pain, hopping and limping , hop limping over to a piece of driftwood so i can stop depending on these apendages to hold me up. so much cold. my feet begin to come back to life.  out of the corner of my ear, i hear a far away caw but the pacific is loud and soothing and rushing against rocks and there is only time out and in, movement and light and touch of sand on our feet.











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