Today we visit the lumber yard where everything is large. The people walk to and fro against the backdrop of coast hrt redwood, calif hrt redwood, prem redwood, rebar, decking materials, etc. There is rock music in the background and the purr of car engines moving slowly.

I think it is like a shipyard and all of these sailors are docking and refilling on supplies. A horn blows and the captains are glad to be on land again to get some freshly cooked food from women with heaving bosoms, extra citrus on the plates to ward off gangrene. Perhaps they are in from nautical missions smoking their cigarettes on the mainland, talking of Michaelangelo, sowing seedy glares in the midmorning toast. I am the only woman here.

Yet we are not seaward, we are at the feet of the Sierra Madres, the Great Mother Mountains covered in fog today like the ocean, yet not the ocean- they are mountains. Men like sailors walk by, smiling and shooting shit through their teeth, limping shiny-faced from carrying all that lumber or perhaps from falling off the bed last night during a good bunked fuck.

Living in September, Earth Wind and Fire, is playing in the background now. This is a memorable song for me as it was my mom’s ringtone for many years and we are both born in September.

The paperwork is in, we have nails, and wood; off to the job.