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If I know nothing else, I know about changes.
This marks yet another
change in my life, leaving Pink Fancy and the people who are
technically
called my bosses, and the d o g..(shhh! she doesn't know). It
all gets
carried along, always.
Some Sort of See You....George and Cindy,
and Ducky Ducky Doo....
There are todays and yesterdays...there
is
Tomorrow...we assume.
But today I know is real and here, and when
tomorrow makes itself all clear I will remember...
These days, those nights, this season in my life.
When I see a certain vase or dinner spread
on
linen, cotton, wood, on Chinese plates, on Chinese
rugs, lighted candles, shadow pictures, or I’m cooking,
dripping sweat as seasoning, smelling or arranging flowers,
tasting something new, lost in learning something
I never understood, when I see some person carrying
wood, or hear a laugh, out loud or silent in the eyes,
see a dog that holds its head a certain way, smiling at me,
when a couple raises voice in song, or heat or
some strong plaintive sort of unisoned appeal,
when I climb stairs that twist with landings full and
walls full and cobwebs in the corners, when in some shop
I gently hold a bowl, a glass, an ancient spoon, a frame around
a
mirror all gone silvery with age, or trim a tree
somewhere else, see flamingos on a lawn, or just the color
pink, have a Sunday, oh, another Sunday of words and oh
god damns, when I dance the hora still not knowing all the words,
or drink too much and laugh too loud, in company the same,
or hear a new old pithy saying - another not in books - , and
a few thousand other things, I just don’t know them yet
...
Curled inside those moments embryonic growing
,
we’ll be together in my head, I’ll still be
making people wonder when I laugh low to myself,
how you are there.
These coming days will be the new todays
and
yesterdays, not yet, but soon.
And then again, and then again.
MJ - 8/14/98 |
