Blue Moon

As you may know, there was a so-called "blue moon" this weekend. Despite its astrological implications—its deep cosmic portend of high and wild emotion—this rare second full moon of July looked much like other full moons.

I think it was the heat, though, the moon combined with the heat on Friday night, that really stirred together like a stiff cocktail and made everyone summer drunk. No one wanted to stay inside. No one wanted to be alone. Everyone was out doing something, wearing shorts and shirtsleeves—sometimes less, everyone was sweating, talking, laughing, and acting disorderly.

I stayed up late. I drank cold drinks with limes perched on the rim. I rode my bike all the way to Lombard Street and back, winding down the quiet boulevards under the grand ole pine trees as their limbs reached out like elephant trunks and pumped oxygen up into the stars.