I arrived forty minutes after the gig. I had intended to drink wine in a solitary manner, but after cooking dinner, I had energy to burn. I lowered down my Hoopty from my bicycle rack, and pedaled a short distance along the Gulf of Mexico.
I locked up my bicycle, and stepped onto an empty deck, lit by rope lights along the perimeter. I made a few bird sounds to announce my arrival. The Kraken lit up when she saw me. I was pleased to be out and about. It didn't matter that I arrived long after the set, I can catch the act soon on a sidewalk. There were no more patrons by the time I got there. There was no pressure to waste money on beer.
Everywhere here is close to some water. We stood by some boats, and we looked at the moon. I went inside to fill up on water, and I inquired about the owner. We are friends, but haven't talked in some years. I lost his number long ago, but got fresh intelligence for tracking him down.
We took to our bicycles, put the moon behind us, and rode impossibly slowly to the Kraken's RV. I had wine and a cup in my milk crate - exactly as I planned it on the eleventh. We entered her home through the driver-side door, because the passenger side is parked tight against bushes. I sat at the table, and she took the bench, and we discussed matters both silly and serious.
Before long, The Young Man arrived. I enjoy his commentary and presence. He is so very young, nineteen I think, and has mysterious and mixed beliefs about life. Sometimes his actions and words make me question if we exist on the same side of reality's thin cloth.
I saw The Young Man earlier today. We were both at the library book sale. He was reading a book about numerology. I scrambled to buy books to make money. The wine that I brought tonight was red - his preference - so we slouched around and shared what little was left.