Everyday activity
at this moment is hundreds of grasses brilliant in the moon. The
moon an indifferent grade last night; gone behind gray cloud
this morning. Birds, my black fan, the deaf cat calling, soon
the RIMPAC planes. Yesterday, egrets patrolled the fresh mown lawn.
They wear brown stripes down the backs of their necks, like ties. At
Goodyear, one guy ignored me by staring at his screen; another
jabbered on the phone. “It's a personal call,” a second colleague
said. “He annoys everyone.” He was talking about work benefits,
staring at his phone while his colleague and I talked about him. A
woman and a man waited behind me. The supervisor's name
is Scott. I walked to elementary school in the third person,
composing the narrative of my life. Now the sun sharpens the green &
the gray immensity of cloud as a man walks across my louvered window
to the workers' shed. This was not the narrative I had in mind; it's
no narrative at all. The end.
--2 July 2014
Note:
"Everyday activity": Dogen
RIMPAC: military exercises in the Pacific
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