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In July I was sitting in a suburban house waiting for my dead mother to come pick me up. The house was in both Palo Alto and Palos Verdes, the quiddity separating these 2 cities having been surgically removed with an ugly socioeconomic set of hot tongs. Everywhere the same. And as I waited in this land-locked house I looked out the window and saw "a" bay and in it a large blue and white ship heading straight for the house. At the last moment the house shifted to the left and the ship passed: to the ship's left and my own right, line-dancing. Jerky. And even my dreaming self could taste something distinctly non-Kosher. "It's an optical illusion," I was told. Okay. Time then to wake up. But I wasn't sure I could.
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