if I could book a ship a trip to the moon to the stars no, beyond to float to soar escape humanity and the laws time and gravity the helix that binds release me from these bonds to soar to seek to feel the universe upon my hands, my feet yes, a road a path the guide of mind downloads a map a compass of consciousness glide a mind among the stars and what I may find – there – a realm of infinite possibility and life – my family.
how subtly we move down the long table, a feast with our family, different times of the year feel the same in here, time is somewhere peering in with jealous eyes. knowing at some point we will venture outside again, once small children (so I recall) are now here at the main table as adults grown up, their kids at the small one or running around, the parade of cousins, aunts, uncles and those married in moves on, the table has swelled all these years, I always knew, but never saw the subtraction coming as I do now, this soon, expected at some point, sure, but never on my side, in my direct row of chairs, a reckoning, for this is the way life is, I suppose we all hold onto untouchable belief, even in the sheer face of the inevitability, the reality, maybe we are fools but I would rather side on the side of belief against all and embrace that fool of myself, for what else can we do, pass the potatoes down and share a drink or two, a sliding moment of smiles, a flash of stories brought out like seasonal accouterments, as the actuality of the tales seem, and are, further off in the distance, for perhaps this is the time of my reckoning, at least as I slide chairs, as the elders inevitably become phantoms, one by one, some by some, so, all the more – stop and enjoy the spectacle, the pageant, the miracle, the banquet of life while the fruit is ripe, the buffet is vast and the glasses full, a moment to take in, as I approach the land of reckoning, not for myself, just yet, but I see, and feel, the coming of the sunset for the generation I am replacing in line next as I move toward the end of the table, may I carry such yoke with dignity and humanity – and love.
my suburban jungle, the town of my birth, although the town I grew up in and knew has certainly grown larger through the years, still recognizable as the same animal as when I was a child, perhaps some of the habitat has changed, so, this is my domain, and surely I should know all the creatures great and small, human or otherwise, within my bubble safari, but alas, I have spent 48 hours romping in the wilds of new jersey, taking in those foreign sights, sounds, scents of another world not so far but far enough from familiar home, and now returned, sitting out here, I am finding the noise, the human traffic absurdly loud, a rattling diesel truck, a jet that seems to be roaring rumbling 10 feet above my head, various cars and their various escalation of rates of acceleration as the sound finally reaches me, bounces off and then Doppler effects me as they pass, the chatter on cellphones as others take their nightly walks, I have seen them all before, they seem like strangers masquerading as my neighbors, I don’t remember their manner being so distracting. can a mere 48 hours away have gone and transformed me into some feral new jersey man? nell jersey? (although my powers of speech and distinct joizee accent remain) I suppose it is all what you become accustomed to, acoustics, visualistic, olfaction, all those… the local mosquitoes are quite bothersome but not nearly compared to their giant cousins the unrelenting torrent of greenheads that ransacked my legs, I stroke my chin, damn, I need a shave, time to get back to this reality, this civilization, and readjust to the current situation, my re-urbanization, re-insertion into the matrix I am used to, knowing that some piece of me is still in there for the out there, wild, and ready to roam free, wild, feral, should the chance provide…
(of course this is part of my porch series, no cool remark tonight, just the post, disappointing? cool..)