Obstacles block my thinking – what to eat, what to say, what’s the name of that – in the way of what I should remember – the window seat, creosote dark in the joist, her bare leg in the sun and and then down the path, trees bending in the wind, an ideal tucked away.

I’m supposed to be out, doing something, looking at the weather. That will determine the day, that structure. The left turn off Marine Drive was a challenge, the long bend in the road, the short left turn lane, a gas station and tae kwon do studio, another turn after that, streets, trees and cars.

I need a goal. Not just to eat and sleep. I need reason. I’ve convinced myself of this. The obstacles are a problem. I need them removed, a clean strike. I can fix the tire, even explain my anger, but there had better be some light, someone saying something.

It can’t just be this.