Chant of the prole

Notker the stutterer (what's in a name?), had come up with a mnemonic device to remember the incredibly difficult melismas...

Last night it was airless and warm by the bay. The kid and I wandered among the crowd of kids playing on the swings and slides, and their parents speaking in various languages, Russian, Spanish, Creole, Cracker, and the like. Some people brought food, others had frisbees, dogs, blankets for watching the sun which had contracted to set over the orange efflorescence of Rita. One rather large group sang, but only one song, apparently just for themselves.

Along the peninsular park extending into the bay were the docks with the yachts. Each yacht managing to look prouder than the other. Sawyer and I watched one 40-footer trot gracefully out to open water. At the helm was a small group of manicured bots, glasses of red wine poised in their webbed hands. Toward the stern -- aft -- another, smaller group, festooned with sailor's clothes and drinks, looked almost lifelike. The boat easily slid through the water. We saw no dolphins or whales, though Sawyer kept talking about how if a whale came along, we could ride on its back over to the bar on the other side, and watch a movie, and then come back. The talent above us on the large boat - The Rubicon - had its empty stare fixed on the horizon, west.

In an airless time in the subtropics, even bots need a break. Perhaps they were taking Katrina refugees out for a little diversion. Or maybe they'd packed boxes of toilet paper and smoked oysters to bring to weary Texan drivers, a 25-hour journey across open water. There is no judging the rich. Not even God, bless his heart, can fathom their needs, intentions, designs.

Carpe Diem. Ora pro nobis.
Caper Deum. Ora pro nobis.
Copper Canyon. Ora pro nobis.
Cooper Union. Ora pro nobis.
Cop a Doobie. Ora pro nobis.

Heading home, we passed a fine steakhouse, with fine wines, as it was pleased to bill itself. Large SUVs lined up awaiting valets. Candlelight melisma, sottovoce tinkle of glasses encased in winedark light, nearly audible even from the road.