My teeth are rotting, it is no joke.

I am becoming very over weight.

Everyday I can count more and more cars passing me on PCH,

I am driving slower and slower, thinking harder and harder,

And aging faster and faster.

Time seems to stand still on occasion,

Writers are closing their notebooks and moving on,

Already having inspected scenes of their crimes.

I drive beyond the coffee shop at 9 am, too late for work to stop today,

And I stare at a boat on a trailer and fall into her recollection,

She was a runaway,

Slayed by words,

Torn by reckless memories,

And nights spent drunk on the side of the railroad tracks to get to LA.

There are times when I catch her when I am daydreaming or in a daze,

She appears often,

More often then I would like sometimes.

Strange how joy and sorrow can meet in a confusion of emotions.

Thinking of her,

Her pierced lip, eyebrow and tongue.

The tattoo on her hip,

Her scraggly blond hair.

I remember bailing a party in Pedro with her and sharing a bottle of SoCo in the marina,

We walked along the docks,

Tried to sneak onto a few yachts,

Pretending that I was the captain and her my runaway princess.

Watching the morning fog rolling in bringing forth the call of the morning,

We fell asleep in the car holding hands.

That was the closest I ever came to holding her,

One random night,

Sharing souls,

But never bodies,

Leaving a burning memory of a night spent several years ago now,

To reflect on as I adjust my tie during small talk with strangers,

Until a mutual friend told me she was gone.

But still when the fog collides with my windshield,

I touch the passenger seat of my car,

Hoping to touch a piece of her free spirit,

As I drive off to work,