There are two chairs outside my trailer. One is white plastic,
a leg broken, it’s on it’s back. The other is red metal. It sits
calmly, receiving snow. Two more days of snow in store…
I hope it’s enough to bury my trailer, but it will probably be
just enough to be a pain in the ass.
I got a CD I like for my birthday, Ry Cooter, Mambo Sinuendo.
I was visiting family in Washington DC. The hotel bartender
played it for me. It was one of those hotel bars that attracts
an interesting crowd; professionals with a heart. So, naturally
it was a small bar, about eight stools. The place looked and felt
as if it had been there forever for a reason. I found myself
opening up…conversation was easy. Everyone else there
seemed to feel the same way, including the bartender.
Hearing the CD there imprinted the experience with
the music. Well, I didn’t fall in love, or anything,
but that was as much openness as I’ve felt in a city.
And the music fit right in.
So now that I’m back in my trailer in the mountains,
I listen to that CD a lot. That was a taste of freedom.
I can still feel it. I’m lucky I got to have it. Those people
I met won’t remember me. But I’ll remember them…
every last one. Even if I’m buried in snow.
The snow’s starting to coming down like it means business.
I like that….and feeling cozily buried. Present pleasure
and the fear of death…..what a nation! Iraq? Just keep
the professional sports thing going and control the media,
and…..Bob’s your uncle! Shall we try for the world?
Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, 2002