We spent the holiday weekend in New York City. Thunderstorms were predicted on the last two days but clouds floated in bright blue sky way above the skyscrapers while we drank beer with old friends in an outdoor cantina. After a few swallows my mind drifted away to a time I lived in the East Village and my consciousness floated over the evening tenement buildings in a state of ecstatic joy. Before our final dinner we took in a French film, “Private Property,” in which the final continuous shot receding from the abandoned property was a pure expression of the emotional loss of the film. At the departing gate a giant of a man with an artificial leg sat with his sleepy young daughter. He was in shorts and sneakers and his tee and baseball cap had race car logo. I wondered about his story. When our night flight landed he took his daughter’s hand and said, “Let’s go home.”
.
.
Memorial Day
waiting at its very end
an almost full moon
.
.
by Bruce Ross
Bangor, Maine
No comments:
Post a Comment