Turning right at Alburquerque

It’s turned rainy and grey this morning, after several rousing bright days in this Northwestern town. I watch the young man in front of me sketch the beginnings of what might be a comic strip. My eyes are sharing the sky’s disposition, and I am counting the minutes till my coffee. The cycle squad turns in it’s pack formation, and we stop for the hundredth time, the bus chugging along, nearly swelling at it’s gains. Heather grows well here, and the Williamette isn’t too polluted. I have to scout out a spot to blow off a firework Monday night as it is the Lunar New Year’s Eve. I live here now, in a city I never had considered, not really, and I’ve put down roots. A job, a Haus, a partner. Nothing feels permanent because not least I’m surrounded by active volcanoes and near the Ring Of Fire. But it’s a beautiful City. Everyday, I find a new pocket, a new charm previously unseen. The two lady bus drivers wave to their college, and we pass the DPS line where the only light in so many of those dead eyes is fueled by irritation or impatience, twin sisters. I have a need to start again, to wake up my resting urges, winter is no real reason to squander my time. But first, coffee.