Out there, the rain having arrived
to break up the hotness. Out there, the same things, - the urban sprawl and the
dim electrical lights watching empty walkways. Out there, not a marked
difference really, between evening and day. For the storm, you know. Caffeinated,
we watch it all and plan a documentary film. Maybe it will be called simply,
Napkin Notes, because of our lack of paper and making due with what is around.
The alliteration ain’t bad either. Melville- read Saint, Guru, or Leader,- and his sea are long dead. We
cruise a spiritually vacuous set of years and displays. The grocery stores, the
buildings curt and new and strong but devoid of any character or soul. The
drops marry the window and many stay. Everybody is heads down- living safely,
far too safely. A plant is out there, on walkways, springing up still in the
rain and grey. That is hopeful. In the faraway fields the bushes get tossed
pack and forth and a porcupine hides, - that is something. But still, - it is a
difficult go. Not for the external struggles because there are hardly any, but
for the search of a fabled, romantic, probably non-existent, full-blown
enlightenment.
No comments:
Post a Comment