running over the same old ground

the movies over, everyones gone to bed, guitar is put up, fire put out and theres no one out there to speak of. so im writing. im not sure what to say, never am, and like i have been for the past - god knows how long - i get ideas and think them through to the point that i should have at least written them down. predictable as the tides. as the weather. they leave on the breeze.

a couple nights ago i experienced firsthand something i had never really conceived before. the fragility, the solid gummy... i cant say it. i believe in the human soul. and i believe that the price of being in total control is too high. we live most moments of our lives looking forward. believing that it is our job to breathe. what isnt realized is that our lives are indeterminate. out of our hands... for the most part. unless you take it into your own hands - its an ironic fate. at any point in time, wherever we are, you can be snuffed. just like that, life isnt that much. just a candle in a paper sack. waiting for the outside world to interfere with rhythmic heartbeat, thin paper film and balsa cage to aid the soul in proliferation. i dont believe i would have done the same, had i known how many people would have shown. how many tears would be shed. how much of a black hole, bigger than my body, i represented.

i saw a man walking down the street a while back. i was in my car, it was midafternoon in the middle lane driving home. i see a lot of men on the street but none that gave me a glimpse of my future as much as he. this man crossed the intersection walking the opposite direction on the sidewalk to my left. he looked to be in his late twenties, short dark hair, looked nonchalant about walking. wearing a white t-shirt and brand jeans that were loose but not baggy. they fell in creases over brown new balances, clean and new. he was walking with a green (or red) pack of cigarettes in his right hand. i shouldnt smoke if i end up with diabetes. he might have carried music too. i cant quite see it as clearly now. i shouldnt smoke at all.

i get the feeling sometimes that i am one of a pair of lost souls. i get the feeling that it is my lifes mission to find them - her - and end both our searches. if we even know we are lost. if she finds me... should i blame god or fate or dumb luck? that i have been who i am for so long that it paid off after too long outside the ring. too many bouts unfought. i used to think i would never know what that meant and then for a while i did. i lost it somewhere in my character shifts since that last instant in july/august when i knew it was over. whenever i bring it up to the forefront of my imagination, to be put with some classic imagery, i always see it standing in my bathroom. i dont notice the clutter, just the wallpaper and the light streaming in the window. i cant see but can feel through the wall into my room and beyond. i cant see but a vision of you and myself in the flesh. i can hear the words i thought to myself, "i should talk to her. dont expect to keep her around forever but... be there. a month or two. it will be ok."