THESE THINGS WE DO

Once again, this blog has a mind of it's own, and won't let me post under the picture, for some peculiar reason. oh well.

THESE THINGS WE DO

a man rides by on a bicycle in the rain. it's early morning, the heat wave is breaking, for a little while. the book I'm reading is perfect for a rainy morning, but there is a word that has me puzzled. listen to the silence, your Honour, that's all i ask of you. it's vertiginous. i decide not to look up vertiginous now, instead, curl back under the quilt of dreams and let the smell and sound of rain soothe me back to sleep.

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i watch a butterfly land on my arm. on it's top wing are four descending, perfect circles. the butterfly rests, allowing me to look for awhile, to lose myself in it's galaxy of small planets. briefly, i wish to know the name of this delicate creature, then wonder why it matters. it's nameless, as all such magnificent works should be.

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there is a woman seated in the shade of an umbrella, drinking coffee,writing on a yellow tablet. she wears a back-baring shirt, and at the base of her neck protrudes a hump. she seems not at all aware of it, rather seems to flaunt it. is she a female Kokopelli--that mystical flute player who appears in drawings on ancient cliffs dating from 200 A.D.? Kokopelli is a joyful figure, a Pied Piper, with a large swelling on his back. some call it his burden basket, filled with the travails of humankind. some believe it to be filled with gifts. the woman is proud and i admire her. i could not be so brave.

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on the newscast stands a man holding in his brown hand the shriveled remains of grapes seared by the California heatwave. these aren't even raisins, he says. what will become of the wine to grace our tables and our lives? what will become of celebrations, lovemaking, joy and laughter as the rising global warmth sears our souls? who can stop this tragedy? us. we must. for our children and our children's children.

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out on the rocks of the Point walks a naked man. he's an old guy, yet tall and unbent by living. he looks up, sees me sitting there, seems embarrassed for a moment, then says oh well, it's probably nothing you haven't seen before and walks on. a mist begins to rise out by the island lighthouse.

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these days i feel as naked as him, though my body is fully clothed.

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listen to the silence

- mimi


SELF PORTRAIT