i step through the heavy,

i step through the heavy, wooden door into the night sky, and stumble.
the door feels thick and solid, like granite.
clandestine in its fortitude.
my clumsy feet, catch against stone.

friction.

my eyes are tired and my heart weary.
the black lines run thick their course, and the fences surrounding the ball of crimson flesh aren't worth tearing down.

it is late.

a thirty year old man, humbled by the weakness of his body.
the house was far too warm, which brings to mind another time.

but the grass felt cool upon my hands.
a stray moment of a straying life.

i stop and glance up at the sky, and see the bright moon cutting the clouds with it's knife.
they spin out in a circle around her, and cast golden light on the billowing sea nearby.
a pack of wolves they are.
playful.
hyenas perhaps.

a star shoots across the dark mass, and this thirty year old man tells himself that he should wish for something.
anything.
but he doesn't know what, and doesn't know how, and doesn't believe in wishes sometimes.
and he has wished them all again and again.

he drives home, wishing he was walking.

he wonders what you're supposed to do, when it often feels as though your art is all you have in this life, and yet your art is failing you.
betraying you even.

he he he he he.

say i jefferson, say i.

Posted by at March 16, 2003 12:41 AM

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