Tuesday, May 22, 2012

All Over Creation

All Over Creation And Back

Tonight, on our walk. Me two days gone
in suicide assessment and training. Learning
what I know intuitively but not always
practicing.  It's hard work we do, front line,
but not nearly as hard as the work those we meet
are doing.  Such hard hard work to want to be
alive. To want to stay alive. To believe there
is a reason.

And, so Molly and I walk tonight, at the first
turn of the block, I see three people and a large
dog coming our way.  I believe dogs know dogs,
but people don't always let dogs know dogs

And, of all breeds, it's a Rottweiler, however you
spell that.  I have been terrified of that breed
for far too long. Thankfully, he was a good boy.
Jay. And, he and Molly exchanged their smell
time and that was that.  So, Molly & I kept
on until we reached the video rental place
so I could drop off  Hugo.  And, then, we crossed
the street to the Red Door church with a statue
of Mary. And Molly rolled over and over again
in front of Mary. And she didn't do anything
except embrace us.

We walked until we came to the street I used
to live on. As we approached, I saw the telephone
pole and remembered.  I was on the phone
with my Granny, and I said, Did you hear that,
Granny? It sounds like my house is falling in.
Let me call you back. And I ran to the front
of the house and saw that a car had crashed
into the telephone pole, and an older man
was behind the wheel his head bleeding,
his wife asking what had happened.

They were ok. Just shook up. Probably
not as much as me.  And then I thought
about my dream last night. My oldest
son running into a cave to catch a baseball,
me screaming it's dark in there. Do you hear
me? Are you ok? Son? Son? And, he came
out, ball in his glove, in his khaki shorts
and white t shirt and I woke up this morning
missing my children and those days.

And, that's that. That was tonight.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Roy Orbison - Only the Lonely (Monument Concert 1965)



If you aren't one of the only the lonely you won't know the way I feel tonight.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Thursday, May 03, 2012

Bob Dylan-Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Knockin' Around


We decide to go a slightly different route tonight, Molly and I. Down our side of the street until we get to the corner where a house that had been there for many years was recently razed, not one thing left of it. I think about who built i...t. Who lived and loved in it. Who was born and died in it. The memories gone to the landfill. We walk until we reach the field near the post office, and I notice the steady decline of the grounds. No more primrose and carefully trimmed shrubs. Budget cuts. Have not seen the gentleman who has worked there for years in a very long time. If he still lives and sees this, how much he must want to come trim and clear the yard of all the trash. And surely he would like to repaint the chipped blue on the boxes. But, I am projecting and know it. He may never have liked the work at all, but something I detected in him through the years tells me he did. We go downtown, check out a sculpture (me) and the field of clover (Molly). We walk by two restaurants. Few people in them. No one outside. We take Main St. to a side street and hear music. I say we, because I know Molly hears it, too, even if she can't tell me. It's coming from a motorcycle dealership. They have their garage bay doors open. A band is practicing Knockin' on Heaven's Door. We keep walking though I really want to linger and listen. We keep going and find another sculpture. I touch it. Molly rolls in the clover. We go on and on and meet up with a woman walking a puppy (who is not on a leash). She sees us and pulls her headphones out and says Come on, Hatchet. Or some such name. Cute little thing. Never barked. Came to her. On we went until we came to the street bordering our backyard. Overcome by the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Tonight , I don't try to figure out how to get into my own backyard, so we walk a little bit more. We turn a corner. I notice how the privacy shrubs of my neighbor two doors down have grown like crazy in two years. A trampoline, a light in a kitchen window, rose bushes lining an iron fence: these we pass before we reach home. Molly hot and tired. Me wondering at the wonders of our walk. Tired but far from sleep.