1-17-93

It's Been A While

The jungle, the jungle.  Entered a little early this week, then end.  The Cadre arrived Saturday and continued well into the Lord's shining hours.  Well, at least the Cowboys are out shootin' Buffalo again.  No response to the prose of the reposed, so it stands.  Inspiration is thin now.  New old stuff ahead. Hoped stimulus.  Can't write the beast tonight.  Tomorrow, the focus.  That's today, the day of Luna, bright deity.  And the tide's turn.

     Ghastly in its open space,
     A void of zero,
     Little to be traced,
     An empty, happy place.
          It's time to move out
          it's time to
          reroute,
          this railess train all tossed about.
     A dream, a dream, a recluse spark
     A tale of inside,
     A questioned mark,
     where began the circular descent:  a dip in the dark.

                       "That could be funny."

He said it in a way that made her want to just get up and leave, or pound his pudgy face in.  This was the third, no, fourth time this week that he had belittled her most thoughtful work.  She had built herself wise to the possible blows to be dealt, but again and again, she would be devastated.  Her foresight was a worthless attempt, she began to accept the storm of emotion he'd evoke.

He was just one of those guys that smarted everything, even the smartest. One step beyond was where he would constantly be.  Many enjoyed his company just for the practice, for insight into that little bit beyond their thresholds.  She began to wonder at their placidity, when she realized that she loved him.