he hadnt held a pen
in his hand for more than a week(it might have been his reason or possibly his excuse)
Aah Thats better he found a red ink pen in his bag
nor had he penned a word outside
the state of California(a state of mind) in more than seven years
seven long
years
an internment
a determined self-exile
he felt alienfelt a creeping blue
realisation the longer he remained in
California the things he thought he knew -- he believed immutable –shifted
morphed stood up on their hind legs jabbed their thumbs at the air willfully walked away
hopeful theyd catch a ride
it didnt matter where
they would contend with what came
as he was selfassured he would contend
with this trip
T R I P
he tripped tripped and fell
fallen you get up brush off your hands and knees get
going again
he hadnt planned anythingplanned
on anything
nothing
nothing
he was improvising
his sister had a quasi-plot
to her struggling a third bout of cancer
everything was quasi
she joined him in the realisation
of living day to day to day to day then
every day when retiring was a conquest
her days were existential
his were existential only in
surviving his wifes death somewhat intact wounds deep unseen
her quasi-plot was to visit the
city
a city he was born in and wandered
in his youth but over the last forty years he entered only twice during the daylight
he remembered things more than
recognised them
they took a train into the city
six of them
his sister her husband their daughter
a nephew and his daughter(she made the trip possible cajoled him)
six small ants in a very tall city
playing off pheromones that twisted and helixed and folded on the wind that compelled
them together and singularly
the lake effect affected them
they walked and talkedthey wound around and around
meddled and broke clustered in threes four abreast paired reformed formed each
had time alone with everyone
they took a fine lunch in the Tribune
Building Howells and Hood(John Howells and Raymond Hood architects – “to design
the most beautiful office building in the world” – accomplished)
afterwards they forged through
the bracing cold wind to the lakefront and Navy Pier
he was a boy when he was last
there
the pylons were rickety and tarred
its planks scarred bolted in place and between them yawned just far enough to
terrify him
he imagined he could fall between
them into the cold water below and drown
drowned and become fishfood
bothered him
being enclosed bothered him
ash was in his future
even then
he laughed at his remembered
terrorhe hadnt been terrorised since his first few weeks in-country his first
tour before his first firefight terrorised
he might run
it was oddly nice to recall that once
he could be terrorised
he put the pen down
after 1800 in
Illinois, Day-between-Two-Ts, 8 3.
17
1026, Monday,
13 3. 17
1409
days remaining or less
