number 9?

Northland. It always feels so much later than it is when the sun sets so early on in the evening. 40°F New Moon, twisting through the hills of the port city. Eve of Birthday for the man driving, we step out for only a few minutes to stroll through cemetery, look out over the bright lights and hilly valley below and gaze up at the flashing red orbs of 5 radio towers pointing at a break in the clouds.

As one place looks like another, faces and names become others whom I can travel with and meet all over again. Humans constantly rediscovering that our identities, our bodies may or may not be one solid thing. We pass by a small building and I think, “the Windmill Diner in Danbury Connecticut.” Names of two strangers are mentioned and in my mind they must be the people I met years ago in this city and shared such a nice time with…

I’m stopping here.

Midnight is neigh.