fig.567.87) Outside the snack shack at midday. Baby sits like a song, he's singing from the back seat now. Tiny hands sitting in their lap. There's a short bucket of pee by the lottery machine when we pull in just before the sunset. The red shack sits beside the bay bridge near the high water mark. Liked by, even though here we are to be, liked by this sausage and it's many companions too. Worn and neat below the wind of the shore. Shells on the warm dry sand. Shells in the sun waiting to be worn like pearls. Inside it smells like gasoline and peanut butter. It smells like mayonnaise and sex down here. I'm a part-time bear with a full-time needs and a real axe to grind. I'm just sitting here on the ice waiting for the weather to turn around again. I have this sack full of peanuts and some dried out fish to help move things around. I have a couple of steel cans full of cold beer. The car that I was driving has run out gas, that's how I got into this mess.