City of Legends

Knee deep in sleep I creep to the edge and look over it. A long way down.

That’s life, you know. Measuring the moments that may not cooperate in what you think is best, testing the waters to see if they hide diamonds or an unsubtle agenda.

Denying choices you’ve made, and parading serenades you have doubts about, shouting lies in hopes that the repetition at least mocks sincerity.

I’ve been writing, pencil or pen to paper, fingertips to keyboards, for four and a half decades. Who knows how long before that the nature/nurture controversy made its background bend and the emotions befriended the vocabulary. How long did it take for me to realize that I had that stripe? I know the answer, but the question is could I have just painted over it and become another grey piece of the grey clay of the grey day that never ends well?

Forgive my posture. I am of a mood to ponder, aloud (blame Candy, she gets me stirred up and I am stuck with the aftermath, having allowed myself into chambers of my nefarious heart and intricate soul that even I never knew were there).

So I think, aloud. I resent the present, as it traps me from tomorrow. I have no affection for the past except as a plastic-bead necklace used as currency for people who have no defensible values. I have made no excuse for myself, and find myself in a sky pocked with abstractions I am still trying to find convenient collapsible handles on and in.

And there aren’t any. So I have to look at things in new ways, which is a great exercise for the brain and heart and soul…but it is painful.