making music out of a night

My brain feels haggard and uneasy, splashing over washes as a boat does turned broadside to the harshest wind, buffeted by unseen currents, a symphony of little splashes when the chassis of the ship boards falls apart, the decay of the wood over time, natural acidity eating through and the luggage is soaked and worthless upon arrival at that other shore… I’m afraid for our lives and our well being. The possibility of arguments and insecurities when estranged. Might find a clarity I need in order to get through these mental grammar blocks, like cubes with different letters of the alphabet on them (based on frequency of use algorithms) so they can spell out many things cast out as light from a stray bulb without lampshade – the light burns me. I switch it off and feel my body sink into darkness. Above here the old glow in the dark stars taped up haphazardly from hallway corner to center, representing no known constellation, though undoubtably this exact formation within the cosmos is plausible and as theoretically sound as yarn theorem. The fabric unwinds itself in a fit of bumbling transformation back into a spool. Naked. Back lit.

Began in a Pike’s Place food/booze rush with sidewalk width channels for patrons to smooth themselves through like gliding fish. All crowded and loud. Many voices all going ‘mmm’ or making snide remarks about the activities of other participants, ‘this guy looks like a pig when he eats’ among the spicy pickles, waffles on a stick with sriracha, raspberry liquor, artisan sauerkraut, beer samplers in tiny round cups, for wafting and swishing and swirling when the spirits are too settled. Here was a nice, crowded chaos. An empty belly with food administration shadow bourbon tasting, with the switch over to a more kind and centered motions when going about the small business, local, booths. Angry clouds mounting over the Olympics, the ferris wheel shone aquamarine, like tropical waters when compared to the mystery of the Sound seen juxtaposed. It stops to left someone off. They are lonely or bored to be alone yet worse with the comforting hands of a lover during sunset. A man practices boxing moves on the black polished metal public park structure. It is a dull clanging sound and reverberates, disembodied, over the railway, through the street, over the salt water with the drifting ferry boats, the industry with the cranes removing crates from ships with Japanese ensign calligraphy painted in strips on the side, reflective currents of the tidal force when compared to the petty wake caused by a slow moving ship, with passengers and their cars, move through to do the abstract, the strange and wild, the untellable because it never happened for anyone else.

Radio static silence, the breath of an independent sweet youth with her smiling feline eyes with a sarcastic smirk painted on to display mischievous intent, with heeded recklessness, a quick walking pace and a mind full of witticism, ideas, colors, observations, quotations, and paraphrase from literary canon the ideas of the whole. She is a beautiful soul and deserves better. Than me. Fear of flying, with the shaking dog kind of nervousness, a fearful way to go. Fear of death. Absence of animals and the moving away from them that caused an abandonment of love. I hear the sounds of love songs echoing in the distance. How can I sing among them again with this pulled taut heart string like a violin bow or flourishing harp played dancingly by the bridal gown adorned single fierce alternative women, with color in her hair and tattoos. Let’s make music.

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