It’s still a young evening. The moon is shining bright.

It’s windy, though. The autumn old leaves form an whirlpool few feet

away. I fed Lobo. He’s ok. The feral cat too. I’ve named him Juan.

He likes to sleep near me. He and Lobo have become friends. I love it.

They keep me and give me great company. One snores and the other

purrs. And God knows what I do while asleep. It’s a beautiful evening.

Fresh and windy, as I said. The old tree stems ten yards away, bend

down gracefully…or painfully…don’t know. They haven’t been touched

in a century. Actually, since Jesus was crucified. It’s been a while. Hope

no one ever touches them. I hate when trees arms are mutilated.

I shall start with my Tequila and limes. I need to warm up the channels

of my blood flow. And my chest, for the evening.

I have become used to coming to the cemetery…I don’t know. I prefer it

to the commingling at being with others. I guess I’m living dead while

still breathing. Have no idea. My mind doesn’t reach far.

The bottle is empty now. My two dear friends are asleep. My backpack

is under my head. Let’s try to get some sleep. Good night. Ta ta.

EO