Drainage

Let's assume you knew. I should have known, that any creek that fell down into Lake Erie would make a waterfall, drainage being downhill and all. While Diana napped and the kids were off I went down and walked the shoreline. Battered and torn as it was, and I felt right at home. There was a large flat rock, as promised. I had a couple of nips of Makers Mark in my jacket, left over from the literary festivities, and my tobacco. I sat there for the longest time, watching gulls work the shoals of bait-fish. The best hot-dogs I've ever had. They take sausage seriously in western New York. With raw onion and a gritty mustard, these were world-class. I took State Route 37 down to Route 22 and missed Columbus completely, fields of waving corn. Last Saturday night, I walked Patsy back to her room, and now it's merely memory. We disagree about some things, but it doesn't matter; she's strong on precise detail and I just make things up. I kiss her on the cheek, I love her, I can't believe I find myself in a world where I kiss Patsy Sims on the cheek.