Archive for March 21st, 2011
Last Stop, The Bank
We sent our loving pink postcards with silly pictures from the tanned fields smoothed by wacky, southern winds, carved by asphalt.
My car was cleaned by men and machines. You thought the machines with furry, stingy brushes might scratch the car or hurt us. The dryers worked to compress us into nothing, but the car looked slick. The car ran better when it was shiny and black again.
The man at the dry cleaners in the building that looks like a Dairy Queen was super nice. My shirts were crisp. I told you I would not want to work with people’s clothes all day, and you said it wouldn’t be too bad.
God was hiding in a tricky spot. We never found God, but you were in a hurry.
Motorcycles were warm and your green coat floated in the dry river bed. The helmets were like the black salad bowls at our wedding.
It was close, but we all jammed brakes and stopped in time in the left lane so we could see what happened on the bridge on the horizon. The man with lumber for new doghouses crashed his truck. There were many firemen on the scene and I wondered if there was a dangerous chemical on the wood.
The tube at the bank drive-through sucked me away, and the nice lady thanked us for waiting. The tube was clean. It was a nice way to go.
Dirty Perch Not Permanent
Harry will be snotty when we take his perch away. He is stately and responsible when he is on his perch.
Sometimes birds fly by Harry’s perch. He tries to be nonchalant, as if birds are not relevant, but for a moment, you can see him in a startled state. The blackbirds squawk at Harry, but he does not say anything to them.
Harry’s perch is dirty most of the time.
It might be cruel for us to take his perch away from him. We’ll need to replace it. I might get a trunk for Harry. I tell Harry that everything is temporary, even the best things in life. I tell him we’ll get along.
All of us should have perches. Perches allow you to see the world from above, and as long as you are solemn in your responsibility and not judgmental, perches are quite therapeutic.
My perch is in the car on a snowy day, but it can be any weather and at any time. I believe that my car is my most intensely spiritual refuge. That is odd and some people do not like that aspect of me. I don’t worry about that. I have a place to go, and this has been true of all of my cars.
I’d like to meditate with Harry on his perch some day. One time I offended Harry by telling him he looked like a vulture while sitting on his perch.
stillfugue 