BEYOND

let's roll out the sea

let's fly the flag

a parade is on the way

brave and ready

to sway eucalyptus trees

the forever breeze

for our jamboree

by the sea

Oh, and on the cover of Vogue: A Makeover!

Say what?

~ * ~

On a quiet afternoon by the storm drain, listening.

Hear the echo? Was it an early times radio show? Summer time, and the livin' is easy . . .would it be a Pokemon Go adventure if we could choose our planet?

From some mysterious place an image rises. Christmas tree lights bobbing in the breeze, red, blue and green. The arc stretches from the street lamp on out to San Jose. A whiff of dry sand. A rose in morning's fresh air. Cold sweat. One misstep by the busy intersection and it's the last supper.

The way to San Jose, Highway 101, was a rickety two lane road touring vacant fields, scrub brush, Dinah's Shack the oasis. Like a lemonade stand. If life gives you lemons, learn clarinet. Got that? when suddenly a tuba player sneezes, but the parade for Los Banos needs pomp and bluster. Chance and bureaucracy --

So blat! Blat, blat! Got the spirit? And if the notes don't quite match, get the rhythm. Who cares? It's a parade!

Winners get to tell it the way we please. That big bronze flashing bell, my sign: Music Not Missiles! Look back and see it.

Tomorrow morning go out to Highway 101. See what's in vogue. Summer time and the sun screen days get longer. Not a thermogeddon cloud in the sky.

At Los Banos it was hot. That was a prequel for Roomba, the self-driving vacuum that whirs around bumping into walls, furniture, the TV. Remembering where it went, building a data base, a floor map to send off to interested buyers. Need a new couch?

I am sitting on a lawn chair here in the backyard. The dove coos. Finches chirp. Sort of like a clarinet auditioning for a history that eludes description. Maybe it's still worth writing home about.

We need thermonuclear weapons, says who? That's worth mentioning. And endless wars, and the climate changing. Facts of insanity. Civilization is still changing.

If we want, the wars stop. The planet heals. We can get along and appreciate each other. And there is no technological reason for scarcity. Fusion power can end the subordination of humans to work. We've come far enough to locate and deflect earth crossing asteroids. There is no lack of wisdom for a sustainable biosphere.

There are some crumbs to share with Mr. Finch, who could care less about any parade. Until you get beyond these words, does it matter what I say? When people get this, the climate really changes.