Like the soft steady wake up purr from vibrating whiskers on cheek, the cat is close. Or is that a motorboat on a lake.

The staccato accelerating roar of the crowd at the football stadium I never go, even in my nightmares. Turn it off. But in memory it gets turned up loud but I still can’t understand what they’re yelling about. Something about a wizard.

Memory amplified and out rolls the whole story. Following a day in the life, one full day like any other to take for granted. Alive with Andrea. Our best days were the uninterrupted, turn down the stadium noise, what-do-you-want-to-do, days. Get up, it’s warm and bright here. Kumkuats on the tree. Take your pick. Andrea driving her brown sports car, the brand most people would go, oooh, cool, but I can’t remember then and sure don’t now. Tamales from that place that catered her first wedding to her stolid mexican Joe, before we met right after we both had gay boyfriends. What’s That about?  Real there in my dream, no stadium roar. I think of a huge dish, and find one tamale in a napkin on my lap.

It’s just how memories are.

Gnarls Barkley, \”Who\’s Gonna Save My Soul Now\”

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