More rotation

What do you see?

Rotating

What do you see?

Rotating

What do you see hidden?

A walk through grandma kates yard

Barefoot bricks between lines of 

 and prickly pine needles sticking to toes 

as we wonder around watering the different plants. 

I her the story of a 16 year old smoking 

Marlboro lights that I brought from Taiwan

 at 2 in the morning about 14 years ago.   

Chasing drag after drag 

with glass after glass of whole fat milk, 

 away from jetlag,  away from America, away from Taiwan.  

This moment removed from everyone 

everything trapped in time. 

We clean leaves out of the cold  fountain 

where I grew up playing endless  gi Joe stories 

I remember my first plastic blue boat 

that I waited a childhoods eternity to play in this fountain.  

The two tiers of rocks,  mountains,  lagoons, and  miniature Trees

  actually twigs and sticks.
all these were waiting for my promise as an early teenager who was no longer allowed to play with toys because of the stigma he attached to it, 
to return some day with my own children.  And let them climb and sit in the water like he did as a toddler. 
And to finally finish the unplayed stories that are waiting to happen in the water. 

We return inside and chuckle again at the story of sesame perched in the Window sill wondering why she was being forced to pretend to be a goat to get our attention
Conversations between trips outside carried on over the wooden table that replaced the one where young bickering love grew into long dialogues of alternative perspectives.  Where silence was treasured as much as the mysteries of the universe that they were trying to uncover. 

Out front:
I question what the little white flower bush is that smells so great "I don't know.  I knew at one time,  but I forget now."

The picnic

Thinking back to Green grass silhouette
Panting puppy punished for defiantly chasing squirrels. 
Waiting in the shadowed woods on mossy picknick tables. 
The stash of empty beer cans is found after retrieving the retriever. 
The owners return shirtless,  happy,  and ready to return to their regular week of poverty and depression. 
You on your computer or with your books sitting next to me and you couldn't be any further away. 

The kiln of waiting

The kiln of waiting. 
Without love,  wandering around the endless chores of dusty lungs and braking bones and ground down skin,  and burning flesh.
The purgatory time of waiting and thinking of lost love. 
There is comfort in repeating what has been done a million times by finger ghosts of my ancestors. 
Invited in by the succubus weed to flirt with you down memory lane.  Forgotten beauties that sworn not to be forgotten: the repetitious line
And I dive down into the sticky thick mire of clay and memories,  stuck.... 

And he remembers me from a far with a dramatic "hey,  Sam! How's it going?" like I were being greeted upon my arrival into heaven for the first time.  I see my bowl... " you got old" 
Age and death taking their tax each year until we arrive here.  Where we started.  10 years later in the exact same position,  doing the exact same thing.  Something I swore I would never do. 
This repeating vortex of repeating events that steals a little off of your soul with every pass. 
One moment at a time.  One step in front of each other. 
Driving the same direction,  in the same way we did the same way 10 years ago.  Tired and dirty and ready to explode into something great. 
The tax this year has been great.  There is now less of the substance remaining to explode. 
As I remember the past pleasantness and anxiousness ,  I breathe in deep the thickness of stasis slumbering
There are certain interactions that are inevitable.  And while this memory was a moment of heaven,  the moment of hell will come.  Or maybe it's already been paid. 
The ghost of the cup climbed onto my wrist as I brought my memories into the light.  I flung it away as reflexive fear flung the memory.  Smashing it's essence into shards.  The 8 legged homeless nomad went on its way to another home. 

And every story has always led to,  started from,  or ended with you .  Our beginning and ending will always be my life story.  From the moment when I first saw you,  to the last moment that I will ever see you.  This is my story.  I chose this story.