Tuesday, May 31, 2016

acrostic of the absurd

As a schoolboy, summer was my favorite time of year. Always. And my topmost favorite long moment was the walk home from the last day of school until September. Exhilaration. Time. Freedom. One with William, for the lucky enough to have known, or been, Richmal Crompton’s boy William. 

But this predawn’s 77F 93% would not have bothered me in those days before air conditioning with the attic fan droningly pulling damp outside air into the open window and across my bed. 

Coming upon the news, some who Text & Drive will be among the righteous indignant outraged that a gorilla was killed to rescue a four year old boy. Same mentality of decades-unborn second-guessers who beat the breast about Hiroshima and Nagasaki that saved a generation of 18 and 19 year old Americans from Operation Downfall in Pearl Harbor's karma. My loving patience with the righteous indignant is nonexistent. Lingering Memorial Day afterbitter? OK. I remember, as they cannot.

Discipline of Bible Seminar this morning, last and final one. Thinking to leave with acrostics, ancient Hebrew demanding imagination and forced but not laureate poetry. 

Every day counts at this age.

Flashing red channel marker just off my starboard porch. Haze. Promise: hot summer, warm ocean, active hurricanes. Final red flash with daylight at exactly 201605310528 CDT: missed it by a split second.

Guess I miss a lot of things, opportunities, chances. Pelicans. Flashing lights, red and green. Stuff of life.

Just don't care
Know what I mean?
Let me know
Maybe today
Not too early
Only a word or two
Possibly three
Quite short keep it
Right now
Zilch and zed.


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