Costume Party

Everything goes away.  I don’t think you have to wait for death for your life to flash before your eyes.  At many points it happens if you’re paying attention.  It happens young and middle age and it’s terrifying.  Not spiritually. I genuinely don’t have spiritual fears.  Emotionally.  Life is short and it’s long, it depends on who you are.  One minute I’m twenty writing about the passing landscape from a Spanish rental car from Barcelona to Mardrid and the next minute I'm...

 

When did I start thinking about the end so much?  I’d like to say when did I start thinking about time so much, but I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT ABOUT TIME.  Leaving everyone and sitting alone in the cold oversized rocking chairs on Phil’s balcony nearing midnight of some 1990s year writing the date over and over trying to hold on. 

 

I suppose what evolves is what I think about time, not THAT I think about it.

 

Or how I think about it

 

Fragile

 

I’ll breathe a last time

 

That time is set

 

It’s there

 

The tree outside the window isn’t moving and looks like a set.

Must be two hundred leaves and not one is moving.

Is it all a set?

Black background and oblong green shapes lit by the ceiling fan bulb.

 

I don’t have the turn of phrase to do this.  I have a trillion thoughts and don’t have a single true or creative way of saying them.  I can feel the creativity and the desire.  But nothing comes out. 

One minute I’m writing about the passing landscape from a Spanish rental car from Barcelona to Mardrid, the Gypsie shanty towns, the red clay huts, and the next minute I'm...  next minute I’m dressing four of my seven kids in our 90s clothes for youth group costume party.