My Other Couch

My other living room is a forested park on the edge of town.

My other couch is a bench on the cusp of the park on the cliff overlooking the trees.

My other TV is the leaves that illuminate the light green, the blue jay that flutters past and the passerby jogger or dedicated mother making their way to their next engagement.

At the Corner of Love & Loss

At the corner of love and loss, I watch both the train and the boats scurry and scuttle into the night.

Part of me is envious of those in motion.

In front of me, the ferry boats, like  small trays of candlelight floating on the water, intersect and reflect each other, fading into the distance.

Behind me, the last bit of the train sounded as if a small mighty mouse was pushing the entire train forward all by himself while yelling: "outta my way, I've got places to be!" in a pitch almost exclusively heard by dogs.

What in life is not worthy of poetry?
For isn't everything beautiful and worth wonder?
I would certainly like to think so.

The future

If a picture is worth a thousand words 

Then a hyperlink with a video attachment is probably worth something like fifteen-hundred words.  

SAT

If a train from Albuquerque is headed north at 30 miles an hour while a train from Reno falls in the woods, did it make the SATs seem a little more relevant?

That small blue room in that big yellow house

I miss that small blue room in that big yellow house--18 full years.

Smells 

Memories

Tastes 

Desires 

Compulsion

Confusions

Loves

Raids

Rage

Heart 

Compassion

Futility 

Impotence 

Idealism 

Letter-writing 

Re-arranging 

Martian landing 

Understanding 

Legos 

Tacs on the ground 

Sports posters 

Band posters 

Crayola films 

Playmobile 

Map of The Shire 

My Shire 

My Home 

My Own 

Now in a different yellow (ish) house in a (very) different hood in a (still) different blue room trying to piece together fears and joys and the space in between.  

Lust 

Love

Fear

Hope

Denial

Change 

Aggression

Repression

Obsession 

The Human impulse to return to a new but (monumentally) different town from which I'm from. 

To flee where people will forget about me. 

To convince myself my current state "isn't that bad."

What happened to those dreams from that perfect blue room in that lovely yellow house.  

The characters of a life that were tried in in play.  

The rythm of a life that we made up in a jingle.  

The infinite yet actually and simultaneously finite reality that existed in that special space where instead of life happening to me, I happened to life.  

It didn't see it coming.  

The Dreams that came from that play toy train with the little felt trees that blew in the fake breeze created by my mouth to simulate a world, a microcosm, a universe of possibilities.  

The thing that life cannot live without is play.  Life would be miserable if silliness was outlawed--we'd all turn into Cowboys making each other laugh with squirt guns like bootleggers escaping the law in this new universe we created with a new sun.  

So whether I'm in a big yellow house in s small blue room or a tiny grey room in a small apartment or a train car in the middle, or in the middle of a rainy day of the soul--

That small blue room in that big yellow house will always travel along with me.  

Toyota

When I was a kid,  I thought my dad was a really progressive guy because he always took his car to the Japanese-Auto Repair Shop.

I thought:

"wow, my Dad is friends with everyone, even the kind Japanese people at the Auto-Repair Shop."

The truth is, he drove a Toyota that needed to be serviced at (you guessed it) the Japanese...Auto...Repair Shop...

I believed many things as a child.

Cats & Planes

The back of an airplane looks like the back of a cat.