i'll let you know when i get there

A few years back, neon burst back into fashion favour for a season or so.  Little blurs of highlighter yellows and pinks could be seen against the grey of the Pacific Northwest.  Loud little waves from strangers. I remembered that moment the other day, driving through the rainy city where everyone had returned to their black jacket and generally neutral attire.   That neon- I missed it and I didn't.  Mostly, I wondered where all those clothes had gone.   In a heap on a beach somewhere? Landfill? Where does any of it go... the colours and people that for a time feel impossible to ignore? I guess ultimately I prefer the well-worn.  Neutral over neon. Not the ability to command, But the power to stay.  

I like the light in my own home- soft glow of the evening kind and warm until the nothing of night. I like my own sounds- neighbours in the hall I hardly hear. The refrigerator sounded so loud for that first week but now is just the din of days plucking on in the corner like an undemanding friend. It's nice to travel. Healthy, probably. Lucky, of course. But it's never right- the light.  Eviscerating white or in the wrong place. The water, a trickle or an assault.  No drawers contain quite what they ought to. All I see are the uncleaned streaks on every other wall (though mine I barely notice at all unless I'm in the mood-  usually in the spring and fall).  Even the places that make you say  "I could get used to this" are not for me. They are not places I really want to be.   I want to be where I am with a closed door and an open window and no plans. 

Remember when America had a president who was a reader?

When it rains it pours we say sink or float leaves for boats  in  a perfect puddle the playground is ours and the rain picks up we are singing we are swinging and everything is new for a couple of hours the grey arrived along with fall thoughts dad worries electric bill went up temporary crown broken mom split a gut laughing at an inside joke from childhood and the kids grow and grow and grow until we are all very old rain, rain splish splish splash thunder lightning listen- CRASH! Oh now feel it when it rains it pours centrifugal force and I see the grey and it smells like rain and I feel it I feel it Alive and afraid to lose. Less and less light on incredible views melancholy right on cue and I feel it

near the speaker, a question: "what if  the future  you fear  is coming?" if that feared future arrives or is here already in some seed form, it changes nothing. little matters.  still. curiosity matters.  still. hope matters.  still- sights & sounds & a warm blanket on cold feet & busy ants moving things  Night skies drowned out by light pollution Other people's trash Replying always replying Mixed drinks mixed media mixed reviews mixed feelings ALL of it IS still happening. & if/when that changes, well don't we humans  just kick the can move the line hit refresh acclimate? when the future I hear is coming arrives it will just be another day of the week & we will go on pushing snooze & dropping crumbs &  canceling plans & charging devices & worrying about a new tomorrow drawing near.

She was bent over on a block under the bridge  Slowly standing  With her walker  On a heat dome day. "Are you doing alright?" I asked as I passed And she immediately, urgently shook her head "NO" White whisps loose under her hand and bent over like a cane.   My mind prepared to get her water or walk her home or even something more extreme when she said "My daughter and granddaughter passed away a few days ago and I am just beside myself." "I'm so sorry. That's devestating." And more sincere, useless words said. "THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD." She said with anger at the injustice as she slowly walked away. 

when you see the black speck in the clear water, you scoop it up urgently, not sure how long it has been circling, and when you suddenly see its little legs moving in your palm,  A Miracle!   "you're alive!"  you will think with delight here you are here you are there you go there you go step onto this leaf you're free you're free and you will think yourself a little noble to have saved a life! something profound something powerful how benevolent of you to have seen and thought enough to save And later it will find you. Like a message a memory hissing air from a tire something about the way those small lives are quite different, actually something about colonies they way their entire lives are harmonized inseparable from the whole and the quickest search reveals that an ant separated from its community wanders alone, confused until it dies What happens when there's something bigger? What happens when, soon, we are small and some giantic force through some fund...