Gulls, searching for garbage, arc swift parabolas behind the docking ferries. The sky is tints of blue and gray,but mostly it is the color of slate. Though warm it is not, as expected, sunny. Come a sunny day, I will board the ferry and,waxing on Walt Whitman, ride to New Jersey. But not today. Today I think of buying berries on my way home.

Love and hunger. "I'm never coming out from my cup of tea," Lorna Dee Cervantes writes. Later she continues,"it's a cul-de-sac for a joker drawing hearts."

My woman friend calls saying she is too busy to go to dinner. Keep writing, she adds, keep writing. And I will.