Dreams, poems, and wireless connection

Zora is in Santa Cruz with both cell phone and internet / e-mail access. Talk about connected!

Maybe I’ll let her be a guest blogger soon. I wonder if she can write? I’d hate to waste a lot of time editing schlock.

Well, either way, she did write me this:

I’m here in Santa Cruz. Very cute little cottage by the harbor. Close to the fish taco place. (Well, I’m sure there are others, but the fish taco place I’ve eaten at.) Karine and Tamara shacked up in a hotel nearby and are currently cruising the great grocery store, Shopper’s Corner.

Nice to be here, and to have better internet access, I think…
Wearing a filmy tank top that shows off my scar…

A few minutes later there was this update:

T and K and B are all here—T and K got a little hotel room a few blocks away. This place is very cozy.

“Artichokes”! I heard that in the kitchen! Giant purply ones like the ones you brought back that time…

Oh, that time... uh, that time? Like I remember “that time.” Like I remember anything. Here’s a simply rule for making Zora happy: buy artichokes. This scene has happened more that once:

Peter [enters, sweaty, carrying a bottle of ouzo, a six pack of beer, an amazon.com box I ordered for myself, and 2 artichokes]: “Here babe, I got some artichokes. Who loves you?”

What a romantic devil I am. But amazingly, it works every time. Zora loves artichokes.

So I have this other dream that’s kind of Big Rock Candy Mountain with thistles. As dreams go, it sure beats bouncing around the minor league circuit getting beat up by Endocardidates:

I get up early every morning and tend to the artichoke trees in our field in Queens. And then I bring Zora back a nice one for breakfast. And they come off the tree perfectly cooked and honey bees drip bits of butter on it as I walk back to the house... And then I wake Zora up, all beautiful and smooth and no stinking breath and she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom. And then we have sex and eat steaming artichokes, which somehow are the perfect breakfast food.

Zora, of course, thought it was good. Especially the part about me getting up in the morning.

I also texted Zora some haikus last night. I wonder if there are any endocarditis poetry slams around here?

They opened your heart
did the modern procedure
really see your love?

and then there’s

Baby don’t worry
you won’t remember the pain
you’ll be better soon

and

New day feels the same;
each day like the last; but Spring
comes after Winter

[you see, in haikus you get extra credit for seasonal references]

Alas, then I found out that the text messages coming in woke Zora up at 3am. But the answer can always be found in 5 - 7 - 5 Homeric references:

Try silent my dear
then dawn with rosy fingers
will great you for me

And finally today, when Zora was at the doctor’s to get approval for the trip to Santa Cruz

Any word, my sweet?
the doc should say OK, but
no roller coaster