My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are tangible; they are measurable. Unmistakably, they have...xistence. But, after the moment, when they are no longer held, they arejust ideas, nothing more than memories.Eva, my former love, says I am too philosophical: "too philosophicalfor your own good," she says. (She is not philosophical enough for herown good, I say.)Thom (is it pretentious to include the "h"? I maintain that it is; Thomor Tom. 1 down the coast to Point Reyes Station. The overcast skies were soon matched by the blue-gray waters of the Pacific as we sped on down the highway. There had been music on the radio and happy and excited chatter all around, but it mostly flowed around me.There was an empty place in my thoughts that used to be Bud.I didn't notice when we made a big dogleg around Bodega Bay and away from the coast. I did look up when everyone's excitement picked up when we returned to the ocean of Tomales. More

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