A runaway kleenex falls from my sleeve. It floats to the floor and I snatch it back. With a runaway nose, kleenex is home - never leave home without it.
Serves as a blotter for a cup of tea - kleenex held in the non-tea hand, pressed up against the bottom of the cup - drink it up with its two spoons of honey - funny I never tire of tea - it always suits me.
So the hearth fire glows on into this Friday night - no site of the full moon, but it is there - somewhere. Breathing with a stuffy nose that flows one minute and swells shut the next - what can I expect? Grandma Lalonde had it, Dad had it, I have it - post-nasal drip like a kitchen faucet needing fixed. Just hereditary, ergo kleenex necessary. Always. Everywhere.
There, I’ve whined. Took this flaw and made it mine. Own your foibles, save the trouble of someone else owning them. Say again your favorite song - sing along, loud and proud and free. Sing with me. See? Fun in the shape of a dance - little prance doesn’t matter how you look - be mistook as a geek - long as you seek the spirit - long as you hear it roiling in your blood - fresh as oxygen in the water - bubbles and fizz - the way it is in a glass of seltzer. What else is there? A jewel in your heart, glinting from the start of something new - including you and others waxing feathers for a long swim through the dream we are in.
You and you and you dodging through rings of fire - rising higher - higher and a dot in the sky - used to be a sun, but by and by became a rock- a stone shock dark place where hot light became gone - so now the moon shone its white cold light on the faces below who might not know everything of nothing.
That sound of the no thing pounds my temples in tempos of marching feet - and now the beat breaks off to silence complete in the dark of no sun or spark of light in the night - a tablet erased, and no thing placed in the void except no noise - no rack and stumble - no grumble in the darkness - no mess - no fault or shout or talk about what happened next.
Just me. Me in the night in the middle of the road, telling a story that aches to be told.
And retold again - until I am old.