Posts tagged ‘waking life’

October 12, 2012

AM Minneapolis (Before Five in the Morning)

Shaken from slumber by the semblance of an early morning dance.

The darkside of a lunar wane exposed; the heavens stretch forever as our necks bend to accommodate our vantage.

 

Scratched backs, cars drive by as I imagine their muffled sound in the future snows.

They remind me of thoughts from the past.

 

Black but blue, the shades of everything at this time seem new.

Coffee is a distant thought, breakfast is truly morning food at this time, moments are lost.

It is before 5 am and I do rule this city.

Boss.

 

All is fleeting faster in the vast darkness.

I ride down Franklin thoughts of yelling Powerderhorn, or Southside!

 

She says I need brighter bike lights, she doesn’t mention my intellect.

Off to support, the girls, the ladies, the babies.

 

We don’t know, she can’t go.

She did.

 

Met yesterday and spent the night in it.

Met yesterday near Chicago as she exited the bus.

 

Looked for a blond, but I found a brunette.

Surprise-surprise.

 

Minnesota desolate, again, the end of summer hinting of fall and enlightenment.

Leaves stripped from trees to come, forgetting of the heat, lying in the slum.

Pulling the AC out as if removing a splinter.

Ready for winter.

 

From before, I stand in front of her door on the sidewalk as she rides away.

Days are number, I guess that is true for all of us.

 

Getting along like no other, forgetting reality as lovers.

Good food and good preparation, the beauty of aggression transpired temptation…

No agitation.

 

Few on bike, some with heads down, a couple of nods.

Most are nodded off.

 

People walking, small talk, sharing little light and little thought.

The cool breeze reminds me of my thoughtfulness as I pull out a coat.

 

Certainly we must think ahead.

Or think again.

Or we just don’t.

 

He and she look for release, coming back from vacation I sit down and listen with patience.

I realize everything I need is here, I suppose that is anywhere and everywhere I go.

 

She says I am so one sided, I tell her I just don’t see it that way.

 

My thoughts run, a week ago my thoughts menaced my days.

No more tears, just happiness for what is near.

 

She left and came back, like the bird with the olive branch, like that story about a dove.

Life happens, but when it happens think less hate and more love.

 

This summer is naught only for loss, like live and let go.

I built a fire on the beach, I came to drunk on your porch while you kissed me.

However, you know.

 

Those  stars we saw earlier  that day next to the moon were Jupiter and Venus.

 

Momma’s got the squeeze-box and Daddy never sleeps at night.

You had me singing Here Comes the Sun before day break.

 

You were my guide, leading me to the bus with frosted windows on the journey home.

You sat in the grass smoking cigarettes in the sun, while milling over my finances and telling me everything would be okay.

 

Daily thoughts are of you.

That is how I make my way.

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August 23, 2012

Sleep Apnea

If you want to see me, come see me-

A lot of people do.

 

Wake up, breakfast; another day in tattered shoes, and food.

Another day to not be rude.

Another day to choose.

 

Choices challenge…

 

My mind rooted to traffic.

Oh, the sights are graphic.

-The detailed movement of people, places, and things.

 

Stop-light…

 

Finding relaxation on idea, dismissing all fear.

 

And life…

 

Life sits on a balance; feast or famine.

Embraced or abandoned.

Picked-up or stranded.

 

We get along…

 

Did you get the cash transfer?

Oh, it doesn’t matter.

Plastered, drunk again, searching for answers to pastures and grandeur; to meeting loved ones in the hereafter.

 

What a life…

 

Yet, I sit with this coffee and this debt.

Breathing easy, calming-exercise to get the weight off my chest.

Half-spent in thought.

 

She says I must have done something bad in my past to wake from my sleep like that.

I tell her nothing.

-Don’t worry.

 

She says, “Yeah, I know you.”

“So why do you sleep with me?”

“It feels safe.”

 

Pink pigment, like piglet.

I detest, not embarrassed, but I rest when she rests without regret.

Hiding stress under her dress.

 

This mess is structured…

 

My eyes take it in.  

 

We just met and she is bent-

While I keep it straight forward.

 

No time to wonder.

As she nears the border.

 

***

 

In a state of stating a statement…

 

I woke to yawn.