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Watching JAWS in the middle of the night
Not that I like sharks or chopped limbs or psychological fear
and how ironic the movie was filmed on Martha's Vineyard
where we are headed tomorrow
Before we head home
With all our limbs intact

The fog blew in the air
like sheets of wind
like ghosts dancing
like thick, slanted bolts of rain
At 2 AM, the sky was lit with white heat and moisture
The only thing missing was a wolf howling at the moon
Scary movie indeed

On this our last evening in Hyannis
Our sunset cruise in the harbor
was cancelled due to heavy fog and wind and tempestuous water
Of all the nights for the weather to play havoc with our plans
this was not the night I would have chosen
We scrubbed our sailing plans
and drove out to Provincetown instead
where the night life is grand and the people-watching--
the lovers, the dogs, the fringes of society so comfortable in their skin,
there at the end of the Cape, the end of the land, the end of the earth
Did I mention the dogs? They are everywhere,
welcome everywhere,
fitting in like anyone else and everyone else

Here in the land where the Kennedy spirit touches everything
from sand to sea to Main Street to surf
Here in the land of chowder and lobster and steamers and clams
Here where the beach and the rocks and the seaweed and sea shells
are nature's footprints on the earth
Here is where the water meets the sky
and the soul is cleansed and bathed in
light and the ocean and the waves and the tide
and the quiet flight of seagulls,
just like wandering tourists,
flock to the edge of the earth
and call it home

except hopping in a car and heading off to the sand and sea, accompanied by the people you love best, the books you love Right Now, and the manuscripts you better love right now.

While away, I'll be spending some Sublime Summertime hours talking about books and writing in Cape Cod with author Claire Cook and agent Tina Dubois Wexler. Call it a "Must Love Hanging Out" vacation with a wee bit of work thrown in to keep me grounded. I think I'll send the family (2 kids, one husband) on a whale watch while I take care of my creative juices. Knowing the frailities of my irritable stomach system, I'm sure the Atlantic Ocean can live without my vomit (also known as internal juices). ;>

My inner Rock Star wishes you all a sublime sayonara to summer-- where the living truly can be easy if you let it happen. Yes, I kicked back and chilled out, wrote when I wanted, tanned when I wanted, bought more books than I should have-- but what else is new?

I'm sealing this entry with a kiss from a woman who knew how to make poetry out of music-- and who knew how to put the time into Summertime. Thank you, Ira and George Gershwin, for the gorgeous lyrics and luscious melodies that help define the soundtrack of our lives. Thank you, George Gershwin, who flew off way too early. Just think of all the music the world will never know because he died so young. And yet just think of all he wrote in so short a time. He was gone by the time he was 39. Janis Joplin, the voice that lives on and defines women in rock.. gone at 27. Friends gone before they had a chance to live. I worry that time moves too fast for me. There's so much to do, too much to do. I want to live. I want to write. I want to... make sublime poetry out of life. {}

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky...

Tell 'em, Janis. Tell 'em.


How sweet it Was. And Is. {}