i imagine a chance to love everything

I have been away from Ohio for six years and finally moved back this summer. Every day that I was away, I longingly remembered one thing about this little part of the world. It’s not something that inspires the illustrious painters of nature or the romantic bards that croon of the greatest of lakes. It’s the gray, cloud-covered waters; the sky, whispering a secret of rain, like at any moment, real silver may fall. Today was the first day that I found the weather again and I am so happy for it. August and mysteriously cool, the temperature low enough for me to wear a tee shirt and a fleece. But it’s the water that really gets under my skin something wickedly happy. There could be nothing and everything out there and I would never know. And I don’t need too. The clouds are so low that the little white caps forming in the coming storm from Canada look like they might just grab them and pull them into some secret chamber. And the sky between the clouds is a permanent muted pink, even though the sun is no nearer to setting. All of the kingdom of things feels this weather I think, because I can hear them buzzing violently outside in their bushes and stalks, stems and blades. All this while, the fattest lake gull I have ever seen sits fixed on the top of the dock light. Every minute or so he barks at the waves, daring them to knock him from his perch, spit him on his back. It’s been over three hours and he’s still there. He’s an Ohio bird for sure. He won’t move away for anything.

the spirit likes to dress up like this

Today the lake is high. The waves come right over the pier and slam into the neighbor’s patio with such lonely vigor – because they’ve been cheated out of their right to curl and fall on land rather than cement. Today I saw a woman digging in the ground. From far away it looked like she was making a giant gray cake, mixing something and then smoothing the tops with her large shovel. But when I got closer to her I realized that she was actually evening what she dug so that she could lay a sidewalk. I thought to myself, why can’t I lay a sidewalk? because I couldn’t. I don’t have the patience for that kind of evenness. And anyway I would rather there be a little hill or two in it, which wouldn’t make anyone happy but me and some kid who just got his first skateboard. Maybe we’d be enough.

the beauty is in what keeps you tied here

My house sounds like a broken cat. I know it looks like I meant to write ‘car’ and then fell victim to a typo, but I meant cat. There is a strange noise that is always just outside of my dining room window. I can’t figure it out and it grates at me all day long while I’m writing. Sometimes I think it is the ghost of dead wood. This house is old. Built in the 20s when Ohio was full of industry from the lake and coal from the electric rail cars. But something is purring outside, a miserable sigh. Like it wants me to find something out about this place that I didn’t know about before today, or the day before, or a week ago when I first heard it. The crickets have started now, their dress rehearsal for evening. The broken cat has left, for now. Perhaps it is soothed by the metronomic high pitched thud of the crickets. Maybe not. Today when I was on my run, I was nearly assassinated by a wasp. I must have looked crazed, running in the bicycle lane, swatting at my back with my hands. And the faster that I ran, the more quickly my swats swirled around my head, and I eventually tangled myself completely in my earphone wires. But I didn’t slow down. The wasp followed me and I didn’t slow down, I just ignored her. After about three minutes, I was far enough away from the scent of her hive and she went back to her flowers where she felt safe. I am so glad that Fall is coming with all of its teeth. The crickets have stopped and whatever swinging broken thing is back. I should stop writing now and move away from the window, so I can ignore the sound for another day.

lions and tigers and teeth

After six last night, the sun was still unrelenting. It was insistent, remorseless heat slapping my left cheek, as I, equally unwavering, sat atop the breaker wall and watched the sun sink like silk to the West. There were two pelicans floating in the water. They let the waves play with their little bodies in a way that made them look wooden. And then, they just flew away. A white gull came and they leapt out of the water, their long wings like robes, vestments of conviction, following her in wide circles like a Queen. I couldn’t help but smile to watch them in the water. They seemed wholly, absolutely amazed that they were able float. I wish I could have stayed out there and watched them disappear into the broken light of the West, but the sun was more patient that I, and the heat was getting me. The sound of the coughing water, the lake dove’s high-toned screams, the small bumblebees making their love, all of the smells of what was alive and dead or alive again in the lake. These things were small enough for me to find amazing. After a long night of dreaming of them, I woke to the Lake barking under the kick of lightning. Clouds, waves, rains. But no pelicans. And no sun.

all goodbyes should be sudden

i've been slipping back into my dreams in the morning when the road shudders underneath my feet. even when i'm running and listening to some nonsense from idiot disc jockeys corporate radio hires to ensure the image of young twenty somethings as dumb fucks with barely an appreciation for a beat to back up the one coming from their chests. even then. and the dreams come and suddenly that song "lucky man" from the verve comes too and the river of air is everywhere. even in the heat. even there on that gravel road that is slowly destroying my knees.

because i've been thinking about how i say goodbye. it's never more appropriate to muse over such a topic than when i'm running. or maybe it's because the light is just coming and despite the traffic pushing me off the road, i only hear the lake. recently i've been dreaming of past loves, lost friends. and there is always something birdlike about them. and when i say birdlike i mean that there is something mythical. one person was a giant, another had the strength of athena. and they were all coming back into my life to say hello. people i had all run from. those that received a sudden goodbye. and i've created this odyssey but without any heroes. and whiles i'm running i start feeling so full of fire, so full of fatal flaws.

still i keep running because all goodbyes should be sudden, i think. or maybe i just run because it's all i know.