At the beach today in the city where I grew up and left, the city where I now live again. The boy city and the man city come together. There at the beach. The woman who carries the large box of mangoes on her head. "Man-gos! Man-gos!" The bee that mysteriously showed up near me. That fell out my hand and fell back in. The bee that died that is now at my altar. The cool memories of a joint and pizza and a nap in the sun. Spooning with a beautiful woman. Everyone must think -- if they bother to think -- how lucky I am. But she is not my woman, only a woman. Just as she is not my beach, only a beach. There is nothing to do or not do, no one to see or not see. It is a day that was just as it should have been.