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Fire Notes / Gulch / Unedited
It”s snowing ash at dusk in November. It was 92 degrees daytime, so today”s is a summer nightfall mixed with the excitement and relaxation of an unexpected snow day; the cause of both: heat. On the phone my sister announces that she”s purchased a townhouse. “Hold on,” I say, for there”s now a roar rising in my ears and the approaching sound of horns. Marching with anti-8 signs and bearing chants about civil rights come protestors down Sunset at sunset crossing Gower through the grey ashen eve. I whisper encouragements.
Then the barista says, “Jess, what are you going to do the rest of the weekend,” and smartly I say (without winking, because some faux-maverick has ruined winking forevermore”or at least for a good few months), “I”m going to enjoy this free latte.” And I pause to answer seriously, and falter because I don”t know what else I will do; really”¦ “This is my weekend, you see” I clarify. “Your weekend?” “Yes I only get one a year and I pick this one, it's mine, and it isn”t at all what I expected it to be.“ Well congratulations on your weekend, then,” his grin is wide. “More like congratulations on YOUR weekend!” and mine is wider as I snigger nonsensically leaving the hot barista behind, twirling off into the falling twilight where there are rising lights and the darkening neighborhood smells like a woodstove. A regular outside the Gulch tips his cowboy hat in my direction so”s we can share a nod and everyone on the portal to another dimension”s patio is speaking about flames and tongues and burnouts as two lovers share a kiss on the threshold. There”s fire all around us, as this vampire drinks it in; the day in its beginnings.
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