R.'s birthday today. Twenty-two. Yikes.
How is this possible. A rather disappointing dinner
at Salty's on Alki -- fabulous view, of course,
but the dining room was so cramped and so noisy
I couldn't hear a thing my boys were saying.
R. took one bite of his food and proclaimed
that he had a stomach ache. What? How old is he? Two?
So. No dessert. For anyone. Clang clang clang
went the forks and knives and plates and glasses.
R. suggested that we walk along the beach, so we did,
as the sun slid into the clouds, and the Olympics
showed their snowy peaks. Suddenly chilly, we crowded
into N.'s Honda, cranked the heat up, drove home
with talk of Alpha Centauri and the speed of light.
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