I remember sticky St. Louis nights, cruising, talking philosophy and Bicentennial politics, listening to Magic Carpet Ride on the radio. Eighteen comes on and we sing along with Alice Cooper, “Don’t always know what I’m talkin’ about feels like I’m livin’ in the middle of doubt.” Never dreaming how far the long strange trip would take us, never thinking all those bright and glittering dreams would lead and leave us here.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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