The Third Wheel

Jan 25, 2010 10:18pm

Books and Water

I’ve met a lot of homeless men along the way. I’ve asked a lot of questions. They probably still go shelterless despite any strength of imagination. Many seemed more hopeful than people of insatiable posessions. Many stuttered but their eyes were filling volumes. Some were miserable in form but only others held them accountable and embarrassed. Some have even said they were lucky and seemed exultant.

I drove to Florida once to be as distant and perpendicular from a certain point that brought certain pain and to be unfamiliar. Alone on New Years with a nylon stringed guitar it rained torrential rain and I thought it might warp the wood but I didn’t care and I didn’t move. I thought that it might change the sound and I thought that that might be alright. I figured maybe the notes would jump from each drop to the next like a video game. Then I thought maybe if they made it they would olly oxen safely on a cloud and vibrate. Then they would maybe make something that was perfect even if I was too far, too much on the ground to hear it. Of what I could hear was the crescendo of salt water waves, heavier than the lakes, and loosened snares of muted drops that would kamikazee sand. I fell in love with water. People run out of the rain and I walk a little slower, and they would hold me accountable and embarrassed wouldn’t they. I would say iI’m lucky, sure.

I’m sure those, most along the way still are without shelter no matter the strength of imagination. I kind of wonder if they ever fell in love with water. As long as the nights aren’t too cold, I suppose. Also as long as it stopped. I wonder that with a lot of people, I guess. I think water should be loved. A luxury in Michigan, a real commodity with public access designated and free. This too for optimisms sake, If you can imagine, I’m glad that a lot of people don’t read. It keeps books cheap. I’m not rich. I appreciate that.