First, I’m sick of pumpkins. All of them. The way people flock to them like they know about the harvest or the sabbath. Let’s not front.

When I awoke this morning I was most eager to work on my car, play video games, and write a poem, in that order.

Last night, I arrived at home and left straight away with my away pack. I drove north to a secluded section of beach where high tide comes awful close. I parked a short ways up the road at a construction lot and then walked down the rotting wooden steps to the shore. It was dark by then and the cold was nipping. I set up the tent as best I could with full awareness of the sheer amounts of sand. I’d brought two bottles of water I’d filtered at home. One was gone by the time I finished.

I wished for a burger but passed the time with a fruit bar. When there was nothing but the roar of the ocean, I slept.

It may have been the cold or the lack of overnutrition, but I dreamt a dream as I hadn’t had in a while. I was married at the start to a nice, pretty, smart woman. We’d only known each other a few years. We planned on having children.

“Your car isn’t good enough,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“It has no back seat.”

“Yes, it does. I temporarily removed it because I don’t need it. I will put it back in.”

“It isn’t safe.”

“Yes, it is. Stupid drivers aren’t safe.”

“It isn’t reliable.”

“Yes, it is. It’ll run as long as I want it to run. Owners aren’t reliable.”

She became more annoyed with each retort, until finally she said, “I don’t like it. Get rid of it.”

And I replied, “Fuck it.”

By and by I was in middle age. My mate was a girl young enough to be my daughter. She appreciated what wisdom and direction I had to give. She stayed until she was near 30. We had sex everywhere and I relished in the public nature of our coupling.

By and by I was an old man. My companions were two dogs, large and small, male and female—McCarthy and Oates.

“McCarthanoats, McCarthanoats!”

They accompanied me in my jeep to the ocean every day, rain or shine. The three of us never died, but instead walked to every beach we could find.

I replaced my windshield this morning, when I returned. It took an hour.