We walked today,
First, me with my imagination,
Doing math problems in my head
That most would find simple,
But I found a bit difficult
Since the humidity and a snake distracted me.
Later, I went out with my dog,
Out of our neighborhood and he was smiling,
Even trotting a bit, he can be a bit of a show off,
Until we got about half way out
When he realized that this was a proper walk,
Not a stop and stiff every five or six steps.
Either way, the arithmetic folly or the pit bull pull,
I loved being out,
Sticky tropical air spun around with a gathering wind,
Early morning ambitious sun
Followed by the golden hour light.
Walks allow a mind to rest and a soul to sense.
Such great inventions, although, I know,
Nothing comes without issues, but
I love air conditioning and fans, especially
When the two are combined
To bring the temperature down and provide
A constant stream of cold air
That puts the heat at a distance.
Right in front of me,
That’s where the fan is.
Right in front of the a/c vent,
That’s where the fan is,
Kind of a middle person, the go between,
Except it’s a one way kind of dealer
With the cold air coming into the room,
Hitting those charitable blades of the wind maker, and
Bringing a cold summer feeling to my body.
Down at one end of the street
Where the renters have taken over
In the next to last house
Overlooking the dunes,
The 80s are alive and well,
A huge speaker is blasting the electronic tunes
Without concern for anyone else on the street.
Way up at our end of the street,
Across the way, where a year rounder resides
The garage set up which usually provides the sounds
Is competing with Human League’s “wanting, baby,”
With a little sophisticated wailing from Josh Groban
That offers just a little competition, only a little, maybe
As it’s only heard when the Karaoke singers don’t know their words.
Two houses, two different vibes,
One musical connection,
One that says my music is what I want to listen to
I’ll make sure I can hear it
Even if that means you have to listen to it as well.
Thank goodness for headphones, this is the summer of Dwight.
Cool breezes blew tonight,
Normally a sign for friendly gathering,
But on this summer respite
Hot airs blew over plastic grass.
Sometimes tradewinds blow unexpectedly,
For some, things are just stalled.
I used to have summer themes,
Usually, I would look back at the end of summer
And piece together the memories and find a musical theme,
There was a Red Hot Chili Pepper summer,
A Jack Johnson summer, and whatever Bonnaroo birthed.
Back in the day, there were summers defined by jobs,
Loch Ness, the wheelwright, RJP.
One important summer was defined by marriage,
The best one, for sure.
The past few years have been memorable,
But the thematic energy has been gone,
More coasting, practical, bound to calendar watching
As the days until school starts again
Dominated my way.
Not this one, I’m a mess of energy that is threatening
To change my very sloth-like existence.
It’s not nervousness, it’s more of a positive anxiousness,
A wanting to make changes,
To apply some behavior obstacles that I’ve got to jump over,
Around, or through
To get past whatever it is that has my passions stoked.
Two characters, Shivas and Master Fwap,
They are talking to me,
Rekindling my energy for the unexplained and the enlightened,
Spiritual places that keep pushing my imagination forward.
An article posited diminishing personal returns
For those in their fifth decades and I say, “eff that,”
While another talked about the way bartenders judge
People who order mixed drinks in peculiar ways.
I’m sort of calling shenanigans on both,
I can do everything I could do before and
I’ll drink what I want, how I want it.
So bartenders, if you are going to judge,
There go your tips.
Friends talk about swill, the bad beer of baseball banquets and
All I can think about is how much I prefer
Darker, meaner beers,
How I’m not likely to sacrifice taste when I go out,
Unless I’m downing them at the beach where some mass product
Will be just fine.
Yet as I read, a man my age should be drinking water,
Ah, the fifties are a challenge.
YouTube talks of minimalism,
I’m getting rid of stuff,
Simplifying my life,
Focusing on breathing,
Doing away with hot water,
Going neat in a nod to the bartenders,
And swinging a kettlebell in as many planes
As I can figure out,
Big sky point to Mrs. Alexander.
Simple ways, a move towards nothingness…
So what of this energy? What is the theme?
Is it Phish? I can’t stop listening to them.
Is it exercise? I can’t stop working out.
Is it writing? I can’t stop the poems.
Is it the adult beverages? I’m enjoying Widow Jane,
She brings an interesting level of consciousness.
Besides, if my ninety-seven-year-old grandmother
Can send her nurse out for a bottle of rum,
Why can’t I have a taste? Family traditions and all…
It’s all of it, wrapped up in a neat little theme of
Me. Egocentric I know, but
I’m doing what I do,
Enjoying what I’m doing,
Aware, sensitive to what I can learn, callous to the anchors,
Ready to get deep,
Ready to be free,
Ready for some sweat, and
Open to it all.