Originally posted September 14, 2010
It was on a train back from Coney.
I had been visiting someone half way there and when I got on I could smell the sun and the sea and the sand.
It was a mother and her two daughters and one of the daugher's daughter and that daughter's son. Three generations.
Doing what I had done with my gramma. A day at a beach, bags of wet suits and empty sandwich and cookie containers and just like that little boy, the ride back lulling me to sleep, my head on a warm lap.
Sunday Memories: Our Version of "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay"
Video – Nov. 22, 2019 reading at Bureau of General Services – Queer Division - I’m honored by Don Yorty who came to my reading on Nov 22th and who has graciously added a video of me to his blog. Vittoria repetto reads from my fingers ...
20 hours ago