when i decide that the (once in two years) (its been a long time) lunch date with c just isn’t enough hangout time on this brilliant weather day, so when she asks want to come sailing with me and my brother? i say
it would be different if one of us was very big, n says but we’re not , as we decide to go out on the water together this time, three of us on the littlest sail boat i have ever seen that he had just taken down from the roof of his (small) car and assembled in the sand, with the help of a red-faced pot-bellied jet-skier
i am wearing a pair of c’s boxer shorts that we find in the heap of a closet /otherwise known as the back of her car, (leftover from her latest move from nola), since i mistakenly didn’t come prepared for this adventure
watching the south bound amtrak train glide past us on its tracks along the river, noticing how small and peaceful it’s giant loud machinery looks from my new vantage point on the water
talking to the baby seven weeks! the way i would talk to an adult while c is bouncing her to soothe the crying sleep is your best option
driving to dance with ar
letting all of the other cars pass us as we slowly climb up a giant hill,
re-listening to a segment of the podcast On Being, when Krista Tipett interviews Brian Greene about quantum physics and the Higgs Boson particle, (which I had never heard of before today)
the part when Brian Greene describes how any elementary particle gains mass only through interaction– the burrowing through an invisible web surrounding us all of the time –Higgs field , and i can’t help but whoop because it seems particularly spiritual and based in relationships, and similar to the conversations I had last year with kichwa- lamista people in the high amazon of peru,
in not so many words.
swinging barefoot on the sticky floor of the dance hall, taking advantage of any natural pause in the music to wipe the sweat off of my face with my dress sleeve
the frogs in the abandoned beaver swamp
punctuate the otherwise thick silence of saturday morning with their
i am surprised and pleased when the glass jar half full of quarters nickels and dimes in the passenger door frame (pressed up against the car speaker)
beat with the blasting music (bluegrass) as I drive down rt 20 east in the dark
James Baldwin is speaking too fast for me to commit
all of his beautiful words, in the order that he says them, to memory
and I can’t press rewind because I’m in a movie theater,
on a monday.
and the ladies sitting behind me gasp often and say how true at least 5 times.
responsibility, witness, responsible, us, black, white, America, grow, if, you are, we are, I am, witness.
holding tight onto the steering wheel I am
screaming for an opossum whose body I heard felt
thud as it jammed into my
front right wheel and car
underside I don’t even know which part of what and then it was over
and now there is the urge to start over maybe
retrace the dark shadows and find the limping legs or at least some
blood but it is past my bed time, I haven’t eaten dinner, and I am still driving forward shouting for two of us.