A bonfire night, to celebrate Trevor and Jenelle's birthdays, and a couple others, too. 20 of us on the beach, smoking pipes and humming melodies, beating djembes and a few of the guys with flame throwers, spitting oil to breathe out fire like dragons. Real dragonfire. A raucous celebration.
All of us skinny dipping, girls to one side, boys to the other, our bums white in the glow of the mist and cloud overhead. And I walk barefoot, my toes curling into all this pale sand...
I would like a real peace pipe, I think. I mentioned this and Jesse talked about one made by both Israelis and Palestinians, half and half. I would like one like that, smoked in a circle with real, conflict-ridden, multi-cultured friends.
A few partying highschool boys came to our little circle and hung out for a while. They asked where we were from and someone responded, "All over the world." And it was unthought of, unconsidered, but true.
Later, we moved to an apartment to smoke hookah and dance, eat beautiful homemade desserts and laugh together. Oh, these California Novembers... how I love these nights.
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