i like to think of these things i am writing as poetic thoughts about my lfie

October 23, 2012

John Coltrane and Miles Davis and the sky in the west without rain for now. I am feeding the cats in the dimmest light of dawn. Some mornings feel like a mystery to me. The street lights outside the front of my house make the Hawthorne trees in my city strip bright and shiny and a little unreal to look at. I get on my bike and ride to work in the dark and on cloudy days it feels like I’m riding through a secret.

I am a little restless. I have the feeling of wanting to get on a plane again, of birds flying away in my chest, of my midwestern guy heart and wanting to drive that little stretch of road just on the other side of Lake Lemon. To think of that stretch makes me tear up. Why? What does that mean? I think it’s best not ascribe meaning to it right now. Things are unfolding. Best not to cut the process short. I have been thinking of a little house with a little yard and a room to sleep in and room to write or play music in and just enough space outside to grow some veggies and shoes by the door and a key in the pocket and feet on the floor . . . it may or may not mean anything. I don’t know. Really. Images flash into my brain and I am just trying to be open to them.

Yesterday, riding the tram down from OHSU to the waterfront, it was crowded like it usually is at the end of the day. We were all jammed in there, hitting each other with our bags and backpacks and jockeying around a little for position. I tried but couldn’t nudge my way up to the windows, which is usually what I try to do most rides, for the view. And in those instances when its impossible to get a view, like it was yesterday I tell myself I am still riding on a tram 500 feet in the air and that is really cool. The front of the cabin was packed with little kids who laughed and yelled out as the cabin swung over the tower. I caught the eye of the woman who was standing beside me and we started laughing too and talking about loving that kind of exuberance.

“We should yell out like that in the mornings,” I said and she laughed.

“I know,” she said. “It never gets old. An amazing view every time.”

“Yep,” I said, “it’s kind of like having a little bit of magic everyday.”

She nodded and smile. “It is.”

1 Comment »

one response to “i like to think of these things i am writing as poetic thoughts about my lfie”

  1. Kathryn says:

    I remember that stretch of road on the other side of lake Lemon. Natalie Miller broke my heart at Lake Lemon…

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