California is Weeping Tonight
The Harelip was lying on his bunk, dozing in and out when I came into the room. The lights were off, with only the moon illuminating his physical ugliness from a shaft of light penetrating the grimy window. I was carrying my notebook. He suddenly leaned forward on his pillow as I pattered in. “California is weeping tonight,” he mumbled, incoherently, before the words were drowned out by additional snores. California is weeping tonight, I said to myself. CALIFORNIA…is weeping tonight. What, was there a wildfire? His hypnogogic babbling took on wide, eerie, cryptic significance. I sat down, and in the darkness, I wrote: “California is weeping tonight,” in my notebook. And then I wrote: “AND SO AM I."