by Leah Mueller for Russ   November storm-watchingon the Pacific coast,I saw you fiercethe first time. You: afraid of webs and travel,always giving methe helm during gales. Cheap Westport motel,probably gone now.Anchors and ashtrays in the side yard,decrepit station wagonsfilled to overflowingwith fishing gear. Ice-cold wind:seventy miles per hour,both of us bundledagainst gusts. Winter uprooted trees,ripped…