counting

It snowed this weekend, back there in the home town, right off Cape Cod, where I could have been, just the way Pink Floyd sang it – “Your possible pasts.” And, Dude, that’s one on my mind, lawdy, here comes the inconceivable divorce, I got NOWHERE to go!! My friend Andy offers his basement, come stay with us, Brother, free!! As long as you need it, get back on your cracked heart, all upright and everything, bended becomes mended. This is friendship, and friendship shook me, and woke me, and the calls were every single day, and cash fell from the sky, and hang in’s and hold on’s and we got you’s, and a possible past was there on Cape Cod in Yarmouthport – where I’ve couch surfed plenty in other pasts, mind you. And there’s 20-plus inches of snow and in this only life I still have, why, call me “the summer kid”, and my no thank you let me slide down here close by Mexico. Which, that nor’easter got me thinking about it.

Though I always think about the heartbreak. Yes – That to this. Possible pasts.

How many addresses have I had in my life? I think I’ll take a week off and try to count them.