POEMS


The Big Blue House in Big Bear

Can you imagine renting a house, sight unseen from an
ad in a newspaper? We're talking pre-internet here.
It didn't really matter. I needed to get out, move,
evacuate, jump-ship, skedaddle. I didn't know any better,
but I thought if I left town, got away from the
easy access drug supply, I might be ok. The only problem
was I took me along. My brilliant idea was cooked
up the morning after Knapp and I skied. We'd gotten too drunk
to drive home the night before, and the next morning, after
walking through fresh fallen snow in the Big Bear Lake coffee shop parking
lot, we sat down to a cozy breakfast, less the two fisted hangovers.
Someone had left the local newspaper behind in the booth where we sat
and I picked it up and started reading the
rental ads while we waited for our hotcakes and sausage. That's how easy my
hair brain schemes are spawned. Three weeks later, I
picked up a house key from the owner of the mountain hideaway.
The landlord lived in Burbank on Screenland, right around the corner from Joe Erickson
I moved in the following week.