I watch those 103 pounds combing a yard and some change of reddish hair before the mirror and I feel her inside of my wrists and at the backs of my eyes, and the toes and legs and belly of me feel her and the other part too, and all of Los Angeles falls down and weeps for joy, the walls of the love parlors shake— the ocean rushes in and she turns to me and says, “damn this hair!” And I say, “yes.”
