Seneca Falls

I.“Waddup dawgs”…the greetingreverberates throughout the hollowcurves of my earsplaying upon their percussive center,…..…..po…u…n….dingpo…..undin..g.…pou.ndingpo..unding….poundinging….i..ngp.o.p.o…un…d…ingpoundingpo.und..ing……..poundingo..u..ndi..ngpou.nding..po.u.nd..i….ngp….oundi…gp…oun..d..ingp…pounding…until the words no longer make sense.We began to stuff 20years into 30minutes. Years deliberated over, over-celebrated, or, ever cursed –of course, I refrained from my common impetuousness,nodding or shaking my head accordingly,in syncopation with each spoken word(just like the olden days). We understood life then& lived against Death’s magnetic beauty –sitting on the hoods of cars (that belonged more to our free time than to our neighbors),hunting the fastest, shiniest, newest cars(that belonged more to our dreams than to us) with pudgy little fingers operating as our weapons,shouting our battle cry into the weeded air:                                 “THAT’S MY CAR!” –we understood,we understood.                          II.We understood          yet,we stand under the telephone(laundry)lines in front of the buildingleaning on the doors of our rusting dreams,lest we crush their hallowed hoods.We stand under, trying to understand where everyone has gone,and,how it is they went that wayand,why it is that they have wentand,why it is that such inquiries seemto be older than we could ever become.We understood,but,we no longer do.Together we dissect the breathing corpses;we disentangle those pudgy little weapons transfigured into resplendent silvered iron;giving & taking life at their own dictation,we tear them away from their chests (at least, principally).Standing under the cloudless sky,we watch the tar of night melt upon the bright morning star.We become the luminous black of night.                          III.                              We dawdle, twiddle our thumbs,burying our heads in the sands of            solitarinessseeking Death’s deliverancefrom Time’s oppression.Finding none,small fire’s are lit whose smoke rises &takes eternal residence in our lungs        ( our acceptable sacrifice to ourselves ).Consuming Hell in remembrance of thosewho have gone before us,that we might see Heaven’s wonderswithout passing through Life first.“Aight ya’ll,                                           ‘              Peace          ’      ”The farewell reverberates throughout the hollow of my soul,echoing even more unattainable dreams –                          answers.Feel free to say whatever (constructive, of course) comes to your mind. Written June 23rd, 2001 © on Sep 23 2001 04:53 PM PST   18 • 0 • 9