Drunk, she leaned backward<\/p>\n\n\n\n
against the bar of the Crow’s Nest,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
ready to topple over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behind her,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a dusty bottle of Drambuie<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in on the shelf,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
last opened 35 years ago,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a final snifter<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for the defrocked priest,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
who gulped down the honey elixir,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
walked to the Rogue River Bridge,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
jumped off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Crabs carried out justice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A year later,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
resurrected as crab Louie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Paunchy tradesmen surrounded her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She wore attire suited<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for chopping firewood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her husband,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the local Elvis impersonator,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
wasn’t around,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
back home,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
hospice,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
cirrhosis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walked in after driving 327 miles<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and delivering a eulogy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for a man who worshiped ospreys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She saw me and lit up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To quote<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGood Vibrations,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don’t know where \/ but she sends me there<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n She announced me as a writer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The tradesmen didn’t give a shit,<\/p>\n\n\n\n floated away to cheap lagers,<\/p>\n\n\n\n stories about salmon<\/p>\n\n\n\n and burn piles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hadn’t seen her in several years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We caught up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She asked me where I was staying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A motel in town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wanted to ask her to follow me,<\/p>\n\n\n\n or better yet, I’d drive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Right now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I’ll never forget the time<\/p>\n\n\n\n she sat down at my table<\/p>\n\n\n\n in the Sea Star,<\/p>\n\n\n\n grasped my arms,<\/p>\n\n\n\n crushing the corduroy coat,<\/p>\n\n\n\n said she loved<\/p>\n\n\n\n my book about<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oregon Coast dive bars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn’t even read books,<\/p>\n\n\n\n but I’d left a copy<\/p>\n\n\n\n in the Sea Star<\/p>\n\n\n\n and she’d read it<\/p>\n\n\n\n sitting at the bar<\/p>\n\n\n\n drinking pint glasses<\/p>\n\n\n\n of swill Chardonnay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She lived in the woods,<\/p>\n\n\n\n golden hair never bound,<\/p>\n\n\n\n somewhere east of Cape Sebastian,<\/p>\n\n\n\n inherited property<\/p>\n\n\n\n from a rich mother in LA,<\/p>\n\n\n\n now dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She made art<\/p>\n\n\n\n from nature,<\/p>\n\n\n\n concocted potions from plants,<\/p>\n\n\n\n drank,<\/p>\n\n\n\n did drugs<\/p>\n\n\n\n with Elvis,<\/p>\n\n\n\n sometimes building<\/p>\n\n\n\n a driftwood fort alone on Pistol River,<\/p>\n\n\n\n or hunting for agates.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every day,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Crow’s Nest for breakfast,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sea Star for lunch,<\/p>\n\n\n\n never for meals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They’d been pulled over<\/p>\n\n\n\n a dozen times in Gold Beach,<\/p>\n\n\n\n always got off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He a high school gridiron legend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She, the hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I escorted her<\/p>\n\n\n\n to her red, rusted wreck<\/p>\n\n\n\n of a pickup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wanted to say more,<\/p>\n\n\n\n but didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She drove away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The husky and I hit the beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Afterward, I stopped at the grocery store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I saw her coming out<\/p>\n\n\n\n carrying a box of wine<\/p>\n\n\n\n and a bag of groceries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We met at her pickup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She stashed the items.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We were standing face to face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Customers passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She started crying,<\/p>\n\n\n\n said she was an alcoholic<\/p>\n\n\n\n and ready to lose the property<\/p>\n\n\n\n because of back taxes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I told her I loved her<\/p>\n\n\n\n and gave her a hug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hugged me harder,<\/p>\n\n\n\n disengaged,<\/p>\n\n\n\n said she loved me<\/p>\n\n\n\n with a slight slur.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We kissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tasted woodsmoke and wine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I touched her sternum,<\/p>\n\n\n\n my fingers incinerated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n People stared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was known in town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I asked her to come<\/p>\n\n\n\n back to the motel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We’d start a new life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her old one was almost dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We’d bury it together,<\/p>\n\n\n\n start over in our 50s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It can be done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She couldn’t do it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gave her my number,<\/p>\n\n\n\n call if she changed her mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn’t call that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She has never called.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Drunk, she leaned backward against the bar of the Crow’s Nest, ready to topple over. Behind her, a dusty bottle of Drambuie in on the shelf, last opened 35 years ago, a final snifter for the defrocked priest, who gulped down the honey elixir, walked to the Rogue River Bridge, jumped off. Crabs carried out […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9759,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9758","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-poetry","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9758","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9758"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9758\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9761,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9758\/revisions\/9761"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9759"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9758"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9758"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9758"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}