I once met a woman on the beach in Ventura
She took my picture near the shore
We had dinner at a Chinese restaurant on East Thompson
Our conversation did not include any mention
Of Proust
Or Buckley, Teasdale or Kerouac
We talked of how we had both ended up on the beach
Me visiting SoCal from Alaska
She from just a few miles inland
Valencia
She had red hair, with a hint Of russet
Had a condo not to far down the road
After two hours of pleasant conversation
(Not, of course, to the staff working late)
We left the restaurant
And went to her place
A nice little condo
Befitting a hairdresser
Not too far from the college
We stayed up until the wee hours
Me sketching her as a mermaid
Or maybe a Selkie
She sharing her collection of erotica
Or rather, her copy of Madonna's book
Eventually we both grew tired
3:00am
She brought me pillows and a blanket
She went upstairs to her bed
I slept on the couch
She had eyes like emeralds
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