finally stumbling in…

Whats left of me is pooling out on the rug while the last bits of energy are put towards refining one of those 18 hour marathon bouts of circumspection. Having driven thousands of miles across mostly empty highways, I could feel the dissolution of all the locked gates keeping my imagination from drifting too far from shore. The few cars on the road are all the same color under the night sky, all tracked between lines painted on the asphalt leading to distant ports of call scattered across the landscape. Without even trying, you could absorb the rumbling of the tires as they spun their way though the single digit hours on course for deliverance wherever the road ended. Beauty in motion, aesthetics in flight.

Instead of tossing out whatever poetry came to mind to wander the highway like bastard children, I decided to keep them with me in the side pocket of my favorite pair of ripped up jeans. They were close enough to feel kicking around my pocket and occasionally pulling out leg hairs in some kind of blatant display of arrogant protest. What can you do but put your foot firmly on the accelerator and keep the pressure steady? Passing out disingenuous smiles in exchange for a few more minutes of easy movement was a tricky proposition; the scales weren’t even close to balanced. As the hours piled up, the raindrops and clouds just kept coming. Who knows, maybe I just kept chasing them, desperate for any kind of passionate contact that could lead me back to the safety of friendly faces kindly acquaintances.

Even getting off the road doesn’t really end the journey. My blood is still being propelled through my veins and arteries with some extra force thanks to a strong combination perfectly timed. Perhaps the jagged nature of the experience is in some small part a kick-back in exchange for the chance to think without walls closing in or collapsing in the midst of curious exploration. Too much effort to over-think what is a relatively simple prospect. When breathing gets dull, just reach for some new activity to keep your interest from flagging while imaginary phantoms question the motives of every possible course of action. Whatever it takes to keep the eyes open and peering over the steering wheel is the most luxurious choice. As long as continued existence is something more than a hobby or a theoretical prospect, the rhythm of rolling steel can only take you as far as you can take it. Just like everything else in this world. We’ve come to depend on dissonance and Catch-22’s.

Assuming my former location; after the marathon of daydreams swept up from the dirty corners of everyday experience, it feels good to make it back in one piece, even with a fractured mind too tired to do anything more than react. Even minus the notoriety of the regionally famous, there is still the same need to expound, to keep track of all the bits and pieces and perhaps even make some sense out of the kindness of strangers. The excitement of feeling my way through hyper-realistic conversation with a red rose disguised as a tulip grows in proportion to the thoughts and wishes of undisclosed third parties and the taste of salt. Some things never change.

Before fleeing the sunshine state for the reality of post-winter melting back home, a confession of fear set the stage for fierce negotiations vis a vis expectations for the coming summit. With more time to tease out the semantic differences most responsible for the burgeoning opportunities, I have the confidence of Trowell and high hopes of finding something more valuable than money and harder than diamonds. If we both take what we need, we can split the rest and make out like bandit kings. Romance in the age of fortuitous coincidence. One comment about a throwaway poem and we’re off and running. Barely believable at times, yet here we are on the precipice just waiting for the go-ahead to jump. There isn’t really any unitary experience that can equal such cynical imaginations reformed into curious shapes trying to match up square pegs with square holes. I guess it’s just how these things are done. With any kind of luck, we’ll all know soon enough.

Finally exhaustion is too much to ignore. I’ll be smiling as I sleep off the long drive and the introspection of the coming parlor games. For this mysterious personage inspiring poetry and laudatory fantasies, there’s still the little matter of finding out what made you notice me standing around practicing verbalization strategies using salient fear as a jumping off point. Context being what it is, the phrase was too narrowly defined to be of any use at this distance. Instead, it’s time to get in close and find out if the answers satisfy the same way questions lick around the edges, occasionally darting in, risking a taste of what’s there. Think of it like coming face to face with brilliance or genius waiting to be noticed. The closer we drift, the more lascivious the dream amongst all the possibilities for compromise where everyone gets what they need along with a touch of what they want. Home again, but always moving.

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