a brightblue helium balloon
trailing a long yellow ribbon
slowly delicatelyturning climbing into the gray sky
he could have assumed it was a
childs toy
but why should a balloon belong
only to a child
had he been near when it escaped
or was released he would have jumped tried to catch it
he wouldnt have given it back
unfortunately all he could do was
watch its silent ascent and as he did he remembered when he was a boy he floated sticks in the rainwater that churned in the street gutters imagining they were birch bark canoes and he rode inside them
and he imagined he was bound to
the balloon going higher and higher and how wonderful the earth and hills and
trees looked from far above
he wasnt an ignorant boy
he knew
once he committed to the canoe ride he might not be able to leap to safety
before it trembled and fell over the steel slants of the street grates or if he could beat the odds that the helium would escape the balloon would deflate and return him gently to earth rather than the breathtaking thrillthe sudden freefall if it poppedPOPPED! perhaps life should end
with a champagne pop a deafening scream a sudden rollercoaster ride your heart
in your throat and trying to breath around its insane beating
he stood and watched the balloon
while in the sky brightblue a
dot a speck
until he couldnt see it any more
he quit breathing high in his
chestquit the thrill he imagined for its great height and distance from where
it began wondering all the seconds that elapsed
woandered all the seconds from
where he and everyone began
he remembered the pageantrythe solemnity
of the wakes the churches the black hearses the black family cars the dazzling flowersbreathtaking
like fireworks shaking their heads in the flower car he remembered the crawl of the
funeral processions the raw open earth at the cemetery the coffins the
bodies inside themremembered their awful rigidness when he kissed them goodbye the
last time so terribly unlike when he kissed them while they were alive remembered whispering Goodbye I love you so much
while his memories flickered
like old films in his eyes he transposed themoverwhelmed them with the precious
flight of the brightblue balloon and then and there as he lost sight of it he decided
hed have his ashes held in a cheap brown paper bag wound in a ribbon tethered
and released to who-knows-where as
his life had been carried to that destination
by a
rubyred helium balloon
he could hear his daughters gasp
his lover laugh
0123 or 1323, Saturday,
9 2. 19
1411, Monday,
11 2. 19
Christopher Cross Sailing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IST-GfqUwDA
