Friday, June 18, 2010

A BAPTISM OF SORTS


The fog rolls in along San Pablo Bay,
right to where I'm heading,
obliterating Mt Diablo in a marine haze.

Freeway is jammed—glinting sinew of light
so I drive the long way home
obliquely through Golden Gate Fields parking lot,
& savor the last glimmer of sun on the bay,
I take photos of the marsh.
Watch an egret skim the shore.

As I make to leave,
a fat golden lab named Stella,
dripping wet from the bay,
takes a shine to me—
greets me like a long lost relative.

Her owner apologizes—says:
I don't know why, but my dog seems to like you.
She was whining to see you.

What was I, a dog in a past life, or what?
Maybe it's the neighbor's dog of my childhood
reincarnated several times over.
She does seem to know me. Gives me a lick.

The dog shakes a little more of the bay on me.
A baptism of sorts. Perhaps for the solstice.

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