“Guys! Guys! Check this out!
“Come and see what I just caught!
My son: “What is it Dada?”
“What is it Brad?” echoes Daughter.
“A bee! A bee! But black and white
“The lid’s not on. Hurry up!
My son: “Just a minute Dada”.
“We have to save the game”, my daughter
backs him up. “Can’t you pause it?
“It’s confused. I don’t want to put the lid on.
My son: “We have to finish the level”
“before we can save it” adds my daughter.
Yellow jackets in honey
and jam jars with nail holes
hammered through their lids
with rocks to make them breathe
stack up in a fort
on a treetop I built
with a ladder of lumber and sticks
I can see my Grandma
wants to climb
climbs up for a squiz;
spots the one black widow
in the stack, and
starts teaching me how to fish
and collect stamps
from that day.
The days go back and forward.
Yellow jackets make a lid
out of the arse of my pants.
It takes me all these years
how they figured I breathe
What could a cuckoo bee be if a cuckoo bee could be a cuckoo clock bee?
Honestly, it can make my head spin to think about how many ways there are to construct reality if I let myself think that way, but then when I think about all the directions our heads rotate, revolve, and race through space-time it seems to turn out that thought is like having a heartbeat and breathing. We don’t have to think about doing it.
So like I was saying I went for a long walk along the cliff tops from Dee Why toward Curl Curl today and sweated some of the weight out. I stopped about one tiny fraction through it to collect my breath and lean on a railing to stop my legs from aching and took a few pictures of seascapes before deciding to turn back and then changing my mind. I stopped a couple more times to collect myself and turn back but something kept pushing me forward.
I didn’t have any water with me, my temperature was going up, and I was too embarrassed to take my shirt off and jump in the ocean just in case anyone saw me. I mean, if people are like me they will have noticed that people on the beach with their shirts off don’t go above a certain size anymore.
My head was saying well if people over a certain size don’t take their shirts off to go in the ocean they will just keep getting bigger, but my ego was telling me to leave my shirt on until I get home and do some sit-ups: practice articulating my vowels with my lips and my jaws to myself.
I thought about how everytime I pushed myself forward my exes would push on ahead of me. I’d be standing at the brink of something with them asking them to stop and look at what I’m seeing, and they’d be like looking down at me through my legs and disappearing around the next corner.
So we’d come home, I’d look through my pictures, and I wouldn’t be happy with the way the sky turned out.
I would go through my toolbox and do what I could to change it for you. You’d go through your toolbox to find someone else who could keep up with you.