Red Sail (To Delia Potts)

Strangely great mood today. Was it yesterday’s coffee or a 3 mile
talk around fine lines and a boat, lip red but missing a sail.
Maybe it was because I Laughed with someone I got pulled out of a
practice room after six hours of Puccini. “You can come back to
this later,” She says. It was a perfect walk. We said things we’d
never say had it not been for that lake. “A boat is a boat is a
boat is a boat. Are we boats? We float. We sink. We have motors.
What’s the difference?” I say. We kept laughing and rising and
spoke louder than architecture which was like catching the number
22. because we are the quietest people I know.