November 15

Here's what I'm talking about. November 15 - down at the beach; nearly 70 degrees; people more than half-nekked baking in the sun and me feeling foolish in long khakis and long sleeves. I rolled up those britches like Prufrock and got my feet in the sand; water slick and salty; big old pelicans riding the waves. Down the beach, past the baking beach-flies, I had it to myself. The painted ladies mostly shut down behind the dunes: their customers moved out for the season;  sun riding low in the sky. The pale half moon already up, winks at me, and says, "meet me later, baby, out back of the house, and then I'll show you something." Autumn at the beach, it's fine, so fine.