T.

We flew out to Nantucket on a ten-seater
and I sat up front beside the pilot. First time
on a plane that small! In fact, when we checked in,
the ticket agent needed to know our weights.
OUT LOUD. IN PUBLIC. Paul and Bill leaned away
and I leaned in and the ticket agent leaned up
so my very demure body size could be whispered quickly.
And then she weighed my handbag.

Nantucket is all window boxes and violas and whales
and grey weathered siding and cobbled streets
and $350 cork screws and $650 linen blouses.
Did I mention that it's a bit pricey?
The streets are "paved" with irregularly-shaped
rounded stones -- crossing is tricky and one tends
to wobble and slip. The sidewalks are a bit better,
bricked, but over the years tree roots have heaved
the bricks upward into rolling waves, so no matter
where one steps, close attention must be paid
or else it's face to face with a bloody brick.


I peered into the window of a real estate office
just for grins: a "cottage" can be had for a mere 3 million.
And we think Seattle is expensive!
As usual, we spent a fair amount of time in book stores,
and Paul met a store manager who graduated from the MFA
program at UW (fiction writing) and was familiar
with Floating Bridge Press. How small our universe has become!
We flew back to Boston at dusk, into the urban haze
of a big city.