Night 1

By the evening, as the lake darkened and cooled down, we’d had several more entries. One wondered about his homicidal hound. “My dog is trying to kill every other dog. Arg.”

We also had a lewd but kind of funny poet named Lunchbox who seemed to want to rhyme breezes with treeses and kneeses. Would this be called a slant rhyme? “Heres to the breezes that blows thru the trees, that lifts the skirts above the knees, that tickles the spot that teases and pleases, that makes you say oh Jesus LUNCHBOX.” A fellow traveler, known only as *hazeleyedbeauty* seemed to agree that romantic relations between people are best accomplished when looking. “Love happens when your eyes are open… and get off the phone to talk to her. *hazeleyedbeauty*” I’d be lying if I said I was not pleased that our [eye color] + [favorable pronouncement on appearance] equation is clearly catching on.

Not everyone was in such a heavy mood. One person just wanted to munch some food and hope with hope. “Im here to eat and watch and wish. When I get full and bored and disappointed I’ll go home.” Pobrecita/o. It’s going to be all right. Your day will come.

Last but certainly not least, we had our first non-English entry, which I’m hoping will encourage more. My laptop battery died just as I was putting it down, and the light was fading anyway, but I do know that it began: Estamos aqui. No names, just We Were Here. Which is absolutely the point.