120715 02:22 knowing
knowing more the unknown
humbles one to listen quietly learning
better the pronouncements of the Other
in silence is wisdom learned we arrive we live
& die merely one of trillions grains of sand within the hourglass passing
Memory
serves me too well at times places blur worn smooth by a river of
time
In
a rare spontaneity my bride still after so many years lent down
preparing to fellate me
Rarer
she seemed to be willing to not just lick but suck fully an arrival
from me.
Roaring
up beside Lisa a rescue gaff rigged sloop came Gill Thorpe in his
very powerful swift noise maker. I dropped my cap and she with aplomb
straighten up
Hello
Gill!
Mr.
Thorpe was upper middle class a Drug Store owner beautiful wife and
children living on Wickford Harbor Where there was a motive to
'improve' certain publicly held property a dock for commercial
purposes He had once spoken to both of us saying “I don't like
swimming in myself” He had lain down in front of enormous dump
trucks to prevent the carnage to his not view but septic tank making
it impossible to swim of a morning his exercise at home No other pool
possible if so he'd had one.
I
rarely forget context and behavior names often especially if
ancillary to my narrative fall by the wayside Yet I remember faces
and his daughter beloved of Randy . . . I measure my life by his
death the before during and after . . . beautiful like her mother she
was Randy's favorite babysitter . . . there was then a younger
brother a family gorgeous posterity iconic.
Where
are we now woven into a tapestry debt the whole Nine Yards standing
above us hoarding everything required to survive Money become
meaningless all told swimming in an universe of effluent Monetary
values meaningless when not circulated politically neutered and we
the slaves considering change of any kind to acquire pennies “In
God We Trust” become a lie
Generosity
like life is its own reward So too greed true not expansive but
devalued and murder to boot suffocating in pennies valueless those
who “In God We Trust” experiential real
Long
curious “The whole nine yards” Caring capacity of an average dump
truck became the roaring 40s latitude returning clipper ships sailed
beneath waves full standing every sail drawing for speed – Typhoon
– The men required to reef the sails off watch drown in their bunks
& I with love imagine them and their ghost ships still sailing
still beneath the brine
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved
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