This picture of Hurrican Wilma making risk-laden love to Puerto Rico back in October of 2005 remains one of my very favorites. Fall coconuts, fall, just don't fall on me.
This merry month of May it thrills me, riddles my muscles with pinball electricity, hurricane strength soul winds howling day & night, enough to drive a weaker mind mad. People tell me my facial expressions are often childlike, my friendship with danger juvenile, my fantasies adolescent, compliments that only goad me on. I have searched my whole life through, from infancy to Alzheimer's, and those giant stereo, rope swing into the lake, live on a boat fantasies keep coming back, wanting to dance past dawn. Fuddy dud fantasies, like living pain-free, can't hold a candle to good old storm-chasing, not for now anyway.
"Gone are the days when we stopped to decide
Where we should go, we just ride
Gone are the broken eyes we saw through in dreams
Gone, both dream and lie"
--excerpt from "Crazy Fingers" (Hunter/Garcia)
No comments:
Post a Comment