LARRY 9-3-62

To say something is almost beside the point. More than eighty years have passed, and just a blip. Learning is an accretion, gathered like wild berries that grow according to the season. Wind blows through the trees, which have learned how to sway. Birds learn songs from each other, or from humans, or from passing sirens. An infant knows the sound of its mother's heart. Not knowing anything comes before that. What is your original face before you were born?

Apolitical poem

People left their fossil dragons home

with nowhere to go

they stopped farting

it made the forest grow

skyscrapers sighed

artificial intelligence was fooled

in a fit of pique

Statistics were requested in such numbers

that the stock market called a halt

blaming the pandemic

for a denial of service

actually caused accidentally

some said

by the bursting of two dams in Michigan

while others pointed, prosaically

to a surfeit of rain

paratroopers were put on alert

to protect polling stations

the weather channel explained

it was due to wind shear over moisture laden air

from the gulf of Mexico while top authorities

speaking on condition of unquestioning belief

redrew the weather map to achieve

political correctness

which I affirmed

by turning the TV set

off

Making sense can easily get sidetracked. Whose template will rule? What do the words really mean? Is there more than one definition in any particular case? Larry 9-3-62 on a paver to my right leaves no room for doubt, with a couple of hand prints pressed in for good measure. Did he know I would write this, or just take it for granted? Or maybe it was his note cast out for a future sea. He simply enjoyed playing with wet cement, knowing it would solidify the moment, and why it either does or does not matter? No doubt I'm not the only one to have come across Larry's momento. Of course it makes sense. It makes a good picture. It's set in stone, so to speak, and a couple of birds just arrived at the seed feeder, which offers a good vantage point. Robin has just landed on the fence. Late afternoon, heat wave or not, is when they all come, and the Junco on the cable wire. Robin and the Junco always chirp. Yes, I'm here. They're watching. In a straight line from the feeder to my chair lie's Larry's momento. All this activity probably has nothing to do with it. Unless this is what he had in mind. Doesn't that make sense?