Freed from the restraints of meaning, I proceed out into the Universe unabated
I’ve got no picture postcards,
I’ve got no souvenirs
***
Nothing to live or die for/No religion too
Don’t get any big ideas. They’re not going to happen.
***
Stuff
I don’t know enough of it
The End
***
A beautiful girl can turn your world to dust. Sometimes I look at her in the rear-view mirror and see her gazing out the window. I wonder about what she is thinking, her synapses firing at an indeterminable rate. I wonder if it was the same thoughts I had, and perhaps we all have: flying, falling, slicing through rock and hills with our hand-scythes, wondering what things look like, layers peeled, on the insides.
***
1 A.M. Flashlights danced. Some giggling and brisk conversations above me. The chill of the water hit my feet as I stepped down the ladder at the end of the dock. Exhale. The muck in the end-of-summer shallows was to be avoided at all costs. Paddling on the surface, swimming out. Lake homes’ reflections on lake. Rolling on my back looking finally to the less-polluted heavens. The remnants of the Martian near miss stole the show. Three shooting stars and, my God, the Real Milky Way above me to the West finished the show. The chill and the muck brought me back to the flashing of lights and libation-induced laughs from the dock. The warmth of my towel. Sweatshirt back on. Mind finally cleared of The One Thing I Wanted to Do Tonight (I’m 30 for Christ’s sake).
Before I turned, the stars reflecting on the smooth surface left me with something new to dream about when my happy head finally hit the pillow.
