I walk at a local park. The track is 1/2 mile around and has an nice varing view to keep your mind off of your inner voice telling you not to do another lap and get a ice cream cone on your way home just to cool off. There is a yellow stripe in the middle of the ten foot wide path. People smile when you pass each other. Seems everybody has a favorite lane. I like to do left hand laps in the inner lane. Anyway, last Monday afternoon I thought I was in a Twilight Zone episode. I am used to seeing pairs and trios of kids walking with each other while they stare at their cell phones while doing laps. And everywhere else I see kids. But, I am not used to seeing these groups turning in unison and changing direction. Going off the track crossing the soccer field or the baseball diamond. The more I walked the more I became aware of the erratic behavior. I had no idea what was going on. Felt like a half dead minnow slowing sinking to the bottom of a 100 gallon bait store tank surrounded by 1001 Red Bulled fueled minnows.
Come to find out about the new game. Read that 140 MILLION people spend an average of 43 minutes a DAY playing. Oh my! What a world.
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Bridge
Jim Harrison
Most of my life was spent
building a bridge out over the sea
though the sea was too wide.
I’m proud of the bridge
hanging in the pure sea air. Machado
came for a visit and we sat on the
end of the bridge, which was his idea.
Now that I’m old the work goes slowly.
Ever nearer death, I like it out here
high above the sea bundled
up for the arctic storms of late fall,
the resounding crash and moan of the sea,
the hundred-foot depth of the green troughs.
Sometimes the sea roars and howls like
the animal it is, a continent wide and alive.
What beauty in this the darkest music
over which you can hear the lightest music of human
behavior, the tender connection between men and galaxies.
So I sit on the edge, wagging my feet above
the abyss. Tonight the moon will be in my lap.
This is my job, to study the universe
from my bridge. I have the sky, the sea, the faint
green streak of Canadian forest on the far shore.
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Unique journey through Chuck's brain.
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The Chairs That No One Sits In
Billy Collins
You see them on porches and on lawns
down by the lakeside,
usually arranged in pairs implying a couple
who might sit there and look out
at the water or the big shade trees.
The trouble is you never see anyone
sitting in these forlorn chairs
though at one time it must have seemed
a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.
Sometimes there is a little table
between the chairs where no one
is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.
It may not be any of my business,
but let us suppose one day
that everyone who placed those vacant chairs
on a veranda or a dock sat down in them
if only for the sake of remembering
what it was they thought deserved
to be viewed from two chairs,
side by side with a table in between.
The clouds are high and massive on that day.
The woman looks up from her book.
The man takes a sip of his drink.
Then there is only the sound of their looking,
the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird
then another, cries of joy or warning—
it passes the time to wonder which.
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Walk On In
Walt Sample
Two clicks north of Da Nang
I went down
Bullet cut thru my lower spine
I’ll never forget that day
Uncle Sam gave me a silver chair
For servin’ in Vietnam
Been prayin’ the same simple prayer
Every day since then
At the gates of Heaven
Jesus please tell me
Go ahead and walk on in
Sittin’ in my prison for over 40 years
Wanna’ be set free
Pushin’ 2 wheels thru lakes of tears
Arms are mighty sore
Wanna’ get to heaven and stand around
And listen to the angels sing
If I cry anymore I might drown
I’m ready to move on
At the gates of Heaven
Jesus please tell me
Go ahead and walk on in
Walk on in
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