I've been going about my days, and in going about my days I've begun to notice a horrible trend developing in our culture. Resting in the eyes and actions of children no longer forced to hold their mother's hands, I've discovered this plague, this panic, this suffering. Peeking its head out through the backs that are turned to me.
Mother's hands use to insist on clutching mine and in doing so I felt there was a threat, but now, no now there is no worry. Hands remain in pockets as they continue to grow. As they continue to grow! Now there is no action, but motion, no life but space. And that's what I see peeking out the backs that are turned to me.
We need to reestablish the threat of being hit by a car when walking, yet continue doing it all the same.
When last going through my day, through my motions, I saw two men walking out of a barber shop, or a hair cut corner, whatever the title. I saw two men walking out not with magazines but walking out being them and as they walked I saw into them. And I saw into their eyes and I heard their eyes saying, "Rude boys don't care! Modern man don't care!"
I drove off, and left them picking hairs off their shoulders like chimps in the wild, their wild.
I was driving down the street, just driving and I neared a crosswalk with a woman in it. And she had her briefcase and she had her beauty and she was carrying them both. Or rather they were carrying her, I don't know and she would never tell. Never tell me, perhaps she'd confess sometime, or before, to her vanity mirror or her closet or her mother over the phone. And she walked with her back to the wind, and she walked with her back to me. And as she walked I saw her body say and I heard it and saw it and it said, "I've invested in my future! I've invested in my life! I've planned out my existence! I haven't planned you in it! Let me see if I can plan you in."
I saw the answer. I didn't wait for it to come. And so I drove by and so I left.
I was driving, just driving and I came upon a peel of skin from a possum or a marmot. It sat there on the road and I stopped when I saw it and I stopped when I saw the honesty about it. Because I saw, because I heard, because I could see the honesty of what it was saying as I hovered there above it. And I stopped because I heard what it was saying and I heard it because it screamed and I heard it because it was silent. And it said, "We must reinstate the fear of being hit while walking, yet continue doing it all the same. Death is but a setback!"