Hammurabi and the Sun
I don’t trust this nice weather, don’t trust it one bit.... weather’s not for trusting, weather’s for living, so be it...
Meanwhile, the boy sits here in the middle of spring, and everyone is so happy around him. The girls and boys are out playing all up and down the street... new sneakers kicking balloons and soccer balls. And, the Catholic girls walk by with popsicles and big jugs of frozen purple that hold up thick white straws. All this happens under and above the smell of green leaves and grass, the world is alive again all of my friends, he says to himself.
Meanwhile, out on the lake, I can hear her screaming to me, to me, does anyone ever scream to me?
"C’mon in while the water’s warm, boy," she says,
"No sense standing out there dwaddling your toes in the surf, the fun’s in here."
"Oh, I hear you,"
And, I do, I do and I can’t wait, I can’t swim, but I can’t wait... so off I go running into the marine blue... there I go to spend the whole day basking in the world by the side of her.
... oh, but in a span of a day the sun can throw a million shadows over the blues, all you can see is brightness, brightness, brightness. And, then, the day dims, and the sun gets turned down, and all that was hidden comes alive again... no day or night can ever steal away the blues, but this should be nothing new to you.
Meanwhile, the sheer physicality and exhaustion of the heat suffered in the day leaves the others to burn out peacefully and contentedly, and she, too, falls away blissfully and easily. I do not, I go to sleep restlessly, nervous and confused, distrustful of both the night and day and their refusal to cooperate.
And, lying there, the fact seems manifest to me that I will also die like this, I can’t imagine why the moment at the end of a day would be any different than the moment at the end of a life.
Meanwhile, the boy sits here in the middle of spring, and everyone is so happy around him. The girls and boys are out playing all up and down the street... new sneakers kicking balloons and soccer balls. And, the Catholic girls walk by with popsicles and big jugs of frozen purple that hold up thick white straws. All this happens under and above the smell of green leaves and grass, the world is alive again all of my friends, he says to himself.
Meanwhile, out on the lake, I can hear her screaming to me, to me, does anyone ever scream to me?
"C’mon in while the water’s warm, boy," she says,
"No sense standing out there dwaddling your toes in the surf, the fun’s in here."
"Oh, I hear you,"
And, I do, I do and I can’t wait, I can’t swim, but I can’t wait... so off I go running into the marine blue... there I go to spend the whole day basking in the world by the side of her.
... oh, but in a span of a day the sun can throw a million shadows over the blues, all you can see is brightness, brightness, brightness. And, then, the day dims, and the sun gets turned down, and all that was hidden comes alive again... no day or night can ever steal away the blues, but this should be nothing new to you.
Meanwhile, the sheer physicality and exhaustion of the heat suffered in the day leaves the others to burn out peacefully and contentedly, and she, too, falls away blissfully and easily. I do not, I go to sleep restlessly, nervous and confused, distrustful of both the night and day and their refusal to cooperate.
And, lying there, the fact seems manifest to me that I will also die like this, I can’t imagine why the moment at the end of a day would be any different than the moment at the end of a life.
posted by j/r at 9:35 p.m.
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