w i n t e r
tom
There are moments in time when you're at a loss for words. When you'd rather be anywhere than the place where you are. When late night drives and solitary moments don't do it because part of what you'd just as soon outrun is yourself.
There are those moments when pissing in the neighbors bushes or Flagstaff park doesn't really seem that different. Then there are the times when drifting off to sleep you can hear the sounds of far away streets and just about catch the beads as they fall in front of your face.
You can remember what it was like to sweat from humidity and a ripe afternoon southern sun when you hadn't a care in the world.
There are moments when a few seconds at the coast might make it all okay.
There are times when nothing will.
There are indeed moments where I must even control my breathing to keep from losing my mind to panic. When the hand begins to shake and the cold sweat creaps to the nape of my neck. When the effects of LSD can be easily remebered and the hand of death is only just off my shoulder.
Those are the moments when flight is cherished, and the very moments why, for me, it has been taken away.
But during all these moments there is something else.
There is always, the other side of the world.
goodnight 11.10.99