What am I looking at?
I heard some words the other day. Or maybe I read them. Can't remember. Anyway ... Our life's path lies behind us . Or words to that effect. That got me thinking. What if it's like a snail trail, slimy, glistening? Disappearing into the garden at the side of the footpath. A slippery film that quickly dries, leaving a sort of grey smear. The snail just slides, simple, oblivious. I think, does it have enough in it to reach the other side? Is that like me? Instinctive and oblivious or is there present moment purpose? Could it be like hot rubber left steaming and smoking across a deserted intersection. Two in the morning. Stuck to the lighter blackness if the bitumen. Laid down by an incautious twenty-something who just wanted to leave a mark, any mark. Am I in that swirl somewhere? Urgency without a plan or creating an indelible stripe on the surface of life? Or maybe it's the long sheen of a vapour trail spearing across a summer sky, a silver dot at its head. If you loo...
