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The World Is A Bleeding Distance
Folder:
I Walk Naked Into a Cloud
The world is a bleeding distance. I forget that
the laundry needs to be folded and the dishes
in the sink need doing. Phone calls are wanted
and the kids need new shoes. Still the world
is a bleeding distance that demands attention
to the important matter of existing. Sometimes
I take myself for a walk, this is my "getting
away from it all". My time of resistance to the
mundane same-ness of the electric rocking
and rolling of the performance. Two doors
away the grass wants cutting. Strands of promises
that neatness counts and conformity to the standard
most certainly is required. A cat waits softly in
the tall grass inching its way towards an
unsuspecting bird. Window of the house not cluttered
with the bother of a curtain so anybody walking
by is allowed to see the occupant sitting in
his underwear needing a shave. A cigarette
dangles from his lips, the ashes flittering on
his chest. He once had daring plans to escape
to a secret island where grass could grow
as long as it desired. The corner store at the
end of the block is not the meeting place it
was in history. Now it is all neon signs and bargains,
and a teenage girl cracking her gum vaguely
bored by conversation. Her computer skills
more valued than her mind. Proud graduate
of the indulgence of her parents guilt. Eyes
forever glazed and indifferent to the hope
of any other searcher of truth. I stop her
daydreaming long enough for her to pretend
she was deeply concerned that I would have
a good day. Purchase my addiction with as
much commitment as a melodramatic bore.
The world is a bleeding distance that wants
only survival and sacrifice.Sometimes I pretend
that I can actually stop playing long enough to
really listen to the scattered fragments of a
conversation.But who has time? The chores
need attention and the neighbours don't care
anyway. The wife is concerned that the bills
are all paid, and the grass is cut, and the dishes
are washed, and the laundry is folded,and the
kids are bathed, and life goes on in a blur
of importance. I realize that my biggest
ambition is to move two doors down and
sit in my underwear smoking a cigarette
letting the grass grow as long as it cares to.
Once in awhile I will motivate myself enough
to go the corner store to share the bored
vagueness of the teenager. The world is a
bleeding distance that waits patiently for
a band-aide. It oozes defeat and resentment.
