Once after dinner a woman and I walked past
An empty basketball court and she says,
"I played on a team my junior year in Belfast,"
And I say "Want to shoot some?" She says "Yes,"
Though she was wearing a long black dinner dress.
She kicked off her high heels and she caught
My pass and with great finesse
Drove to the baseline, jumped and shot
Swish. Two points. We played for awhile,
Man in a black suit, woman in a long black gown,
I loved her quickness and her heads-up style,
Her cool hand as she beat me hands down--
Her jumpiness, like a blackbird in the night--
Her steady eye, her feet about to take flight.

Alfred Munoz Molina

is just tall enough
has soft black hair
and golden skin
wide shoulders
and smells good

you stand behind him
in the movie line
or buying flowers on boylston street
or see him on the subway
not far down the car
his clean brown hands
on the overhead rail

the man in front of you
could have just killed someone
or might have a bitter face
may love no one
or always sleep alone

the man in front of you
hurries out of the station
or rushes around the corner
and vanishes into a cab
you never see his face
but in dreams he comes to you
and does not slip away

I love you hot
I love you iced and in a pinch
I will even consume you tepid.

Dark brown as wet bark of an apple tree,
dark as the waters flowing out of a spooky swamp
rich with tannin and smelling of thick life--

but you have your own scent that even
rising as steam kicks my brain into gear.
I drink you rancid out of vending machines,

I drink you at coffee bars for $6 a hit,
I drink you dribbling down my chin from a thermos
in cars, in stadiums, on the moonwashed beach.

Mornings you go off in my mouth like an electric
siren, radiating to my fingertips and toes.
You rattle my spine and buzz in my brain.

Whether latte, cappuccino, black or Greek
you keep me cooking, you keep me on line.
Without you, I would never get out of bed

but spend my life pressing the snooze
button. I would creep through wan days
in the form of a large shiny slug.

You waken in me the gift of speech when I
am dumb as a rock buried in damp earth.
It is you who make me human every dawn.
All my books are written with your ink.

As you know, I live in Brevard County, the place everyone in America keeps hearing about on the news, as it relates to Tropical Storm Fay. This storm, which started out as a pesky little nuisance, has turned into one big bitch. She just won't move and keeps dropping water all over everything. Here in Rockledge - just north of Melbourne and just south of Cape Canaveral and Cocoa - we have gotten 28 inches of rain so far. It has not stopped raining at all since late Monday night. The whole thing is surreal.

When I was in New Orleans during Katrina, the damage, flooding and devastation were not surprising. In part, I suppose, because we knew it was coming and because it wasn't "my neighborhood." Maybe it's always easier to see destruction when it isn't your own stuff being destroyed. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be awake at two in the morning, mopping and bailing in my own living room.

The news paints a picture close to what is really happening: homes filled with 5 or more feet of standing water, cars submerged on Route 1 (a major highway), alligators, snakes and raw sewage in the flood waters-- right smack in the middle of regular 'ole neighborhoods-- but the news broadcasts can't capture the emotion that's flooding this place. It's a combination of disbelief, exhaustion, and hopelessness.

The storm doesn't seem to be moving at all. While it was worse for us when we were on the north-east side of the storm, being on the south-west side isn't much better. The rains will continue to fall until all of the feeder bands have cleared the area, and that won't happen until the storm is between 70 and 90 miles away from us. Currently, it's close to 20 miles north and it's only moving at 2 or 3 mph. We're forecasted for another 8- 12 inches of rain before midnight tonight, which will bring our total close to, get this, 40 inches of rain over three days. They haven't put the predictions out for tomorrow yet.

This is the third day schools have been closed (our kids went back to school last week, if you can believe that!). It's not the winds keeping them out; it's the fact that almost all of the roads here are closed due to flooding.

The National Guard is helping get people out of flooded homes. There is an emergency evacuation going on at a community called Indian River Colony Club. It is on my running route, less than 4 miles from my home.

Anyway, wanted to let you know that I'm safe. My feet are wet, but I'm safe. And so far, thank the gods, fairing much better than many of my neighbors.