Day 316

everyone woke up too late or had gone to find marginal riding conditions on the slopes so the hot springs trip didn't happen today. no big deal, i just felt i had the obligation to rectify the result other than yesterday's plans. and that's part of the reason i don't like announcing plans because you end up jerking too many people around, including yourself, if you get too deep in a particular attempt of foresight and then have it change.


i'm breaking format now and find that two line paragraphs are attractive at the moment. this is not poetry.


people dance the street in the breaking sun of spring
and cars wave at another and to familiar pairs of feet

the scene is beautiful in my mind, through a brick frame window,
and they don't know that they are a part of what i know

they are out of their holes for a moment
and crossing easy street in an easy life that don't feel deep

some do swing their children above the sidewalk, grinning to the gusts,
and the tiny feet touch down by the time the street is clear once again, cleared of wanderlusts

my mind makes stories for hers, hims, thems, and each one,
passing without seeing any eyes, recognizing some. knowing others.

a dozen or so familiars would be spotted from this coffee shop,
and some are inside talking to me right now and others are walking with more friends

conversation holds me to my interior chair, but i might run out, past the fireplace window nook,
and catch the others from the breeze. they would join, we have no plans.

we met once before, this very place and nearly same table, randomly,
and don't think i didn't see your over-the-shoulder funnel stare. leaving, lingering, she remembered.

in this way people take up their jackets and say goodbye, not covering their heads anymore
and then shed their light coats and say hello, separating tables and chairs

i get up and say goodbye to people all around, knowingly, and step outside
and in the sidewalk eye i might have been a scene through a brick frame window

banana and sunlight make the front porch the right choice back at my house
and in moments another group of friends crosses the road, saying hello, and joining.

and in this way we are all shooting stars in the breaking sun of spring