On the beach today I fell asleep and dreamed about a dive bar in New Jersey. I was alone, open and innocent, running my feet across the sandy floor. The wind blew through a curtain behind the bar. The bartender (she had red curly hair) smiled from the corner of her mouth. I was skinnier, lighter on my feet. I was sipping Campari, or was it a Shirley temple? Maybe I was younger than I thought. Maybe I'd finally quit drinking. Seagulls flew violently past the windows, the air buckled, the smell of day-old fish soaked into my skin. I ordered raw clams, but didn't eat the cocktail sauce. Just the raw fish and some lemon, flavorless flakes of black pepper. I was meeting someone. They were late. I stayed until the day ended and waited. As the sun set, the light hardened and turned red like the color of tail lights. Passing shadows on the old wood bar.
freelance writer + editor