The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea. -- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik
Home at last, 11pm...
...my legs still numb from the Harley-Davidson's assured vibration on the cool night highway bliss. My tongue still bitter with the taste of Samuel Adams. I am alone but I'm okay. The tide goes high at 9:30am and I will surf beforehand.
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