Saturday, September 18, 2010

She knows what I don't

Flying blind over a continent of indifference
She maps the course.

Chiba
She says
We can breathe there
She says
It's next to the ocean
She says

I don't ask which one

this is my strength
and my weakness

razor bloody brain
against contrary brickwall will
which leads to constant, consistent, frustrating pain
and then
almost always
to perennial pleasure

an electronic image on a previously blank screen assures my mind
that this is no ghost
no mirage
no phantom
no illusion

there must be this home because
there is this picture
See?

there must be a path
for here is this map
got it?

there must be a way because
here is the destination
understand?

there is the target
we are the arrow
fly true

now pack your shit
and
get movin'

This is the easy part for me

I have less to hold onto
than to throw away
less to cling to
than to let go

let drift
little regret
no goodbye

We land
intact
and take out the hammers,
wrenches
screwdrivers
shovels
mops
brooms
buckets
and boxes.

Indeed a surging tidal wave of monotonous, symmetrical cardboard that mocks me,
taunts me
tests me
almost breaks me

but

this is the birth of home
the labor
the hours of pain
chasing after comfort

then
one day
sudden like a hiccup

we plop on the couch
stare blankly at TV
munch chips

the silence of night
intermittently interrupted by stray cars flashing by on the road
reminding us of the World
schedules and appointments
work
dates

we look
laugh

the dream arrived

later
alone
I turn off the noise

I fall into sleep to the sound of that great ocean crashing the land,
smashing and ripping in the inevitable gentle lift, grip, grab,
timeless cycle of infinity

which assures me I am small,
a speck
a blip
a vapor of insignificance projected wantonly into a void

and my time is short

as the heedless, tireless crickets do their work
playing into an wide open sea of stars and forever.

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