to her:have I ever really looked into your eyes deeply, I mean as I did with her or has fear recoiled that instinct as she shied away from such glare and now do I? you? a replacement? no, something different and why will I not look there is this me, or you, or both I want to stare, and be lost deeply, in the continent of your eyes because, then I will know comfort there, on those shores in the place you hide from others a dead on stare because, in that space your residence your essence lays bare
may your eyes meet mine and lock, for a time deliver me from this wilderness, my hope, my only fire
I am a child of the nintendo 8-bit age, so many of these old chiptunes are sentimental to me, this one in particular, chiptunes rule my friends… don’t even start me on my fave games from back in the day… I might (nod) still play a few of them….
driving, early evening, the days are stretching darker, yes, yes – this is the crest of autumn, leaves have fallen but there are so many trees still bursting ripe with them, of course there are the colors: the yellow, the purple, the orange, the red, and all the burnt versions in between putting on a last ditch flare before the penultimate fall and down evolution to brown (dust), but that is a couple weeks away yet, we have not yet reached the summit of the complete denuding of the arboreal population, driving at night – this is like a scene devised, laid out and mapped, planned, the leaves almost form a skirt from the curb out, a perfect and undisturbed line, exactly (or so) 4 feet, like extended orange-spotted fronds creeping onto the road separate from the curb form, my headlights reflect off the sheen left by the gentle misty rain that has drifted down from the parent fog, not a sparkle, or a shimmer of diamonds like the ocean waves @ sunset, more like individual sliver silver hands raised up on the curled tips of leaves waving ‘hey, look at me’, one last act of expression before life is drained into submission – the sleep, all this has the feel of an awake painting, and I am within the gallery, living, among the breathing-pulsing museum of the actual world, I round the familiar corners toward home, not as many decorations this year, the usual houses of course do not resist the urge, or perhaps the good intent, blow up spiders, skeletons bent, a makeshift foam graveyard, gossamer webbing swaying in the breeze like a demon child’s sinister swing, for a moment there is comfort in thought, the remembrance of halloween, youth, bouncing steps between houses, yes, this is definitely the plum of autumn, winter has not bared her full teeth set as of yet – but you know she is coming, the whispers in the slight chill let you know in passing, but this, one of those moments to savor, driving, the road lined like a pictured frame and I feel, at peace – in place – playing the part for which I was made, perfect borders remain for me to follow this familiar path, skipping street light to street light like hopscotch, let my senses embrace and marinate with the sights and sounds, one more turn and- I pull into my driveway, some of the magic seems already gone, lost… but… with care, I peel a large, intact, blood-red maple leaf off my side mirror, I hold the stem, and twirl it in my hand for a bit, to say goodbye – to a friend.
When you can, find a spot to go to, to find some nature around you to refresh you, Franklin Lakes NJ is a fifteen minute drive north of my office, so after the grind I like to tach up there for this… and yeah, it is worth it. Can you spot the turtle that is hanging out with me checking out the sunset ?
I can not explain the why of the exact thought, but when I think of sky diving, I think of a blindingly shiny aluminum plane with perfect rows of rivets, much like a vintage airstream trailer with wings, WW2 era propellers rumbling madly, making conversation mere bursts of short screams, one of those cool logos emblazoned on the side, an old cracked but comfy leather cap keeping my skull nice and warm before the plunge, no one else on board, at least in the jumping area, I suppose I am alone, aren’t we all when we enter into this doorway, a lighted path that delivers us here, into life…
waiting for your perfect time, instinct, guesswork, a push, who knows, seems like months incubating the decision, knowing that at some point you will have to jump, we all do, maybe we are already falling, I suppose they did not coin the phrase ‘terminal velocity‘ for nothing, quite tongue in cheek really when applied to this side of life, well, the only side we know and can discuss until, well the coin flips, or lands as it were, as all things must and all things do, standing there, waiting your turn, the door opens, the wind rushing in, you can not quite see the ground, just the clouds, funny I thought heaven was up, not down… and then… the release. . . nothing is touching your feet… air is all around, a free fall for all in the throes of gravity, or the inevitability of gravity, you might catch a glimpse, of the ground that is, a free fall like a free will, indeed…
I wonder how many parachutes I have left, cats seem lucky in that regard with their defined nine, magic in their spines, ‘three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays‘, I wonder if the same could be true for me, finding out for sure would be the daunting part, how many parachutes do I have? and why do others have none? a strange conundrum, for there are times that could have been my time up, but not prescribed, so not done, the randomness of the universe at large, all this molecule soup roiling in the cosmic cauldron of all? or a written plan, the invisible road, a string theory that leads to a thread distinct destiny for all the world, and in my years spent, in and out, thwarting death, once more I might reach for that cord, and find nothing left, might I make it to nine, like a fine feline, or perhaps be greedy and aim for double digits…
the crisp the cool the snap the surge that first bite of bone cold our host still warmed enough by our local neighborhood sun. a signal a chase a race of leaves to the mother’s floor. a rattle a spin leaves tumble the street end on end in the wind sounds to ear mimic rain but are dry rouse rustle a carpet a mat a former umbrella. that feel that snap undeniable – the crisp.
under the harvest moon upon my common harbor for I embark unto that vessel of sleep the voyage to the portal of dawn for I awake unaware of the miles spent that certainly lay behind me now onward to a new world on the morn with time, a hunt, in the yarn let the first light confirm again the miracle of first breathes and tell the joy of open eyes the sound of life of my beating heart like the ever waves the sounds of life awake
along the morning commute, I usually see them lined up by the dozens, in their usual spot, erm… row, actually, on a line that crosses above a particular side road I use to get to the ole turnpike, but this morning, they were on a lawn feasting, a bit early for thanksgiving I thought, apparently someone laid out some feed and the pigeons were doing what any upstanding pigeon citizen would be doing with such a bountiful opportunity, then there is me, in all my armor complexity, wrapped neatly in this breathing metal skinned beast, a cocoon of technology separating me at almost every instance from simplicity, I wondered, wandered, for a moment… -to be a pigeon, the pure simplicity of the thing, just being, unaware of things that do not matter, like who won the bachelor, I wonder if pigeon’s have real house wives? I suppose not, no town names, street names, house numbers, interstate monikers, none of it, all falls away, would I be happy this way, a mental exercise with no destination as I surely can not make that determination reality, but I can dream, or retrograde I think, how would I begin? strip? strip down from this onion, mantle to core? or more, start from the ground up, scratch, I’m not sure, but I must admit, I felt a moment of calm contemplating the whole scenario as it whizzed through my mind like a bullet train, the simplicity is alluring, but how much do I really know, maybe I should park, stick my beak on the ground and give it a go, I might find there are more complexities to this quick puddle toe, nothing is ever as it seems on first glance, but I do wonder sometimes and try to mold some of that into my own experience, essence, being or what have you, for I did have that moment, nature punting a lesson in my direction, sometimes you just need to stop and listen.
in the company of shame and regret so I thee dwell knowingly the inescapable past that sin always there bled in with pen the clearest of bookmarks doth mark a clarion chapter the scarlet L forever after my story told so far and I can not begin again.
for a ledger has no mercy especially – once written.
let this be a cautionary tale, since I get company vehicles I received satellite radio with each new one, I was out on the road more often in the past so I signed up for XM service fulltime on my dime, however, in these pandemic daze… or days, I am not nearly out on the road so much (plus I have tons of stuff to listen to on my USB drive anywho), I got a new car (and my ex-car was passed to a new tech) so I figured I would just let my XM subscription run out by itself and not even worry about it (giving the new guy free radio for a bit), easy peasy, right? nah… not so much… I get this screaming yellow letter that my account is past due and they will continue to charge me (the credit card on file is expired), so I figure I could cancel this online… right? nope… back to screaming yellow letter, the phone number in big print should work…nope… well then, at the very very very bottom, and in ant size oompa loompa font print there is a completely different phone number for cancel requests, Stall Tactic #1 (here on out known as “ST#”), so I call the (small) number, I have to verify my entire DNA genome, twice, (I mean just an account number is not sufficient in this day and age? please…), that would be ST#2 for those keeping score @ home, call center connects, I have to verify all my info, again, twice (seriously, ST#3), guess what? their computer system is having ‘trouble’ (ST#4+), I get put on hold a few times for this, semi-robotic-non-sincere apologies are not exactly soothing my soul, not to mention that the words “I want to cancel” do not seem to penetrate into the lobe of the phone conductor, so after this myriad of delays (15 minutes in now) the clerk informs me I need to ‘take care of my balance’ for the amount my radio was being ‘used’ past the expiration date, $24.14… OK, no big deal, I’m ready to deal, seems simple? nope… I am informed that I need to pay a total of $241.64 to bring my account current (that is the yearly rate), what? but then I would be issued a credit … wait for it… “if I want to cancel”… (insert hair pulling here), so almost 30 min in @ this point and I have to pay ahead to go ahead and cancel my account, maddening, I protest, a couple more times put on hold (ST#5), finally the clerk reads me some legal mumbo jumbo and is going to take my $24.14 to bring my account current, whew, near done? right… ? nah… so I give her my credit card number, twice (of course), put on hold… she comes back, ‘I’m sorry that card is declined’ (ST#6+), this is a brandy new card, I have near perfect credit, and there is not even a balance on it… so, we go through the card number again, twice (as if you had to ask?), put on hold… and low and behold, viola! my card works, how magical… she says ‘OK, your account is current after the $241.64 charge’, what?!? now I think I understand that astronaut who put on diapers and drove across the country… so I again, reiterated irately that I wanted to “cannnnncelllll theeeeee aaaaaahhhcountttttt”, (cruising past the 40 minute mark now), ‘I understand but before I can transfer you to that department -were you able to have everything you needed done on our call today?-‘ (phone drop sound, on my end) “No, of course not, how can you even ask that question?!” ‘ok, sir, sorry for the inconvenience, please hold’… (ST#, ahh… who’s counting), another person picks up, I think you can guess what happens here, I have to give them my information… from scratch… again… I was pretty much at my end here so… the conversation went south (I am omitting a bunch of ‘put on holds’ for the sake of my sanity)… “I want to cancel my service” ‘do you no longer have the 2017 Hyundai?’ “No, it was crashed and took both my legs with it” (and without a hitch…) ‘so will you be getting a new vehicle?’ “No, my wheel chair does not have a radio” ‘well, I was looking through your account and it seems we can offer you 41% off for the year, that would be a credit of $120 off what you have already paid for the year’ “NO… I WANT TO CANCEL MY ACCOUNT” (nearly an hour in… last nerve twitched and frazzled, but I did not use obscenities’.. I was close though… so damn close…) and finally… finally… I get a confirmation of the cancellation… now I know what it feels like to run a marathon and break through that little tape thing @ the end and collapse in a joyous puddle of my own fluids… ok, maybe that’s a touch gross… but I digress…
I don’t support boycotts and the like… but companies should be called out for garbage like this…
Shades of My Garden 