the girl from back then...

there is a cleft in the mountains, a pass, right near cerro alto. on the far side of the road is a stand of black cottonwoods, horsechesnut, sycamore, maybe a box elder or two. but the saplings are very thick underneath. the blueblossom and dogwood, redbud and poison oak sprawl there, too. on the near side of cerro alto, willow grows in the low wet places and live oak on the slopes. bay trees. sage. wild grape. honeysuckle. old man's beard laid in swags from the tree crowns. i drove to and from morro bay twice today. when i first passed the gap at cerro alto, the cottonwoods were catching the sun. i couldn't really enjoy it, though-- road's twisty. have to keep my eyes on the road. my second trip had no visible cottonwoods, as it was after nine in the p.m. but i remembered then about a day spent there with my boyfriend when i was sixteen. we had gotten a ride there but had no way home. we hitchhiked back. a guy who had just emptied the flatbed of his hay truck stopped and gave us a lift. we sat in the dead center of the bed, because there was nothing to hold to. by the time we arrived back in town, my hair was perched on the back of my head like a matted tam-o-shanter. i spent half an hour brushing it back into its usual shape (which is quite unlike a tam-o-shanter, thanks very much), and he bitched at me for being so fussy. and then he asked to use the brush. i don't know why i should remember that.