The Dilemma of Different Realities On the days you don’t post to Live Journal the scenarios in my head occur on streets I could never navigate. I’d get lost trying to find Staples even with your well-intentioned directions. The shopping plazas with names like “King’s Dominion” in outer circle D.C. look fake repeated so many times. Every road ends in a cul du sac. Your high level security clearance doesn’t allow access to yourself. Are your CIA realizations just another misinterpretation of reality? My reality hums hot and cold the way air conditioners in July are huffing the chlorophyll from the plants and the vacuum seal from my engine. When they stop, I take a breath. The heavy-water Uranium swim I enjoyed two years ago, (having noticed the warning sign too late) is still worth the bargain I made with the ocean, closing the deal with a sea glass handshake Two Buddies on the Corner Jesus and the Hanged Man didn’t hang around together for nothin’ wastin’ time sittin’ pretty For a minute…or more they forgot themselves, you know what I mean, their name… which the mages will warn never to do but we do like we do and forget those pivotal importances like the place we knew before you know what I mean that place you talk about it every once in a while a hint of a smile; dream about it more and don’t wanna wake up; even write about it but then you forget the words or what they mean same as a name meaningless and every once in a while just once in a while when you’re not hanging upside down or carrying a sword or thrashing in the night you turn your head and there it is... a flash a glimpse a jump in your heart so graphic you gotta reach to see if it’s still there but it ain’t cuz you can’t feel your heart until you capture that glimpse put it under your hat and go whistling Changing the Color of My House for Obscure Reasons In copper bowls, seashells and sea glass from Hampton, Folly and Tybee recline in mute acceptance, compassionate sacrifice, substitutes for our trip to the sea Perhaps I'll wrangle an interlude, sleep in the car within toe distance listen to my harsh lover lick the earth to extinction. I'll pay the demanded tribute in return for big waves: scraped shins and crabs in my hair. Seaweed, cables, and lobster traps wrap around my heart, ensuring I can't breathe unless within hearing distance. In the meantime, I've painted my house blue, a reminder a hilltop backdrop; a fitting box to hide my longing so the neighbors won’t stare...