good humor day is sunday, no one to say I can't delete and start over again, a poem. The day itself or most of it, is done; the walk at Manzanita, not too far thinking these tangled red boughs were once (and still) impenetrable scrub forest to dazed missionaries Picked up a chunk of hardened pine pitch to deodorize the car saw one amanita and a polypore not much more; and two kids pitching hard ball, going against the football tide "go 'Niners," etc. "go go go" that line, "closing time" running through my head maybe it started in Vertigo, the cafe. The song itself I wrote about and then deleted asked a question -- if something was enough. I forgot the rest.