THE PITTER PATTER OF BARE FEET

 

Braids

Cooking bacon on a bright sunny morning

The fan whirring over the sizzling hissing frying pan

Chopping up the blue sky

 

I saw it the other day under a clear open sky

An old photo…an iconic image from the past floating on the deep blue sea

Blissful days, months and years

Looking out at that catamaran resting and rocking on anchor

 

He sat up after resting…middle age…Asian descent

Feet dangling from the upper bunk

Head down in thought…glancing up at us occasionally

“You know…that fucking shit makes you smarter.”

 

Laughter…incredible laughter

Though…the laughter always stops at some point

Smiling

With this thought

 

No feeling in the world like the first day on a foreign bound ship

Blackboard at the gangway

Sailing: 1700

Bound: For sea

 

No strings…no hanging chads

Nothing, but the horizon

That is how every morning should feel

Kyle could always put his finger on the irony of any situation

 

“When you get on a ship…money loses all value.”

Later, much later…I began suggesting what she should wear

“It should be seamless, light in color and substance… flowing…”

“I do not want to interrupt, but I have seen your work

 

I would really like for you to photograph me nude

I hope you do not think I am not being too forward

Can you do this?”

“Uhmmm…love to…”

 

I love to climb inside the silence

It is my spaceship

And I definitely do not feel alone

For good reason…I am not…alone

 

Yes…there are things that bother me

But, I make it a point not to climb into bed with these things

I hope if I leave them alone

They will die of starvation

 

The pitter-patter of bare feet heard on the wood floor below

Running…dancing

In front of the cold night sky

In front of the howling emptiness

 

Moving toward something

While moving away

Something growing in silence

Something growing in the light

 

Last words spoken

Last words heard

“Love you”

Click, “Love you”

 

Good night