Student driving

 

15 July 2021

Re-turn: another circle around. A student driver (his car marked student driver) attempts to parallel park; one Prius wheel meets curb. Photograph of a missing car side mirror with yellow fluff in it, like flan, someone writes. Or of signs erased by sun, less negative now, and more mysterious. Eternal return is too grand for these loops, so we inventory the players, knowing they’ll pass on like the homeless guy pushing his burgeoning shopping cart covered by black tarp. He’s in a mystery play, like the others. One man asked an east African cab driver (first I’ve seen) at Long’s for change; others pop up at the Post Office, disappear with their towels. Return without release; a woman refuses help from a social worker at the door. I tell her to trust the other woman, but who am I to her? Those who occupied Kalama Valley in 1971 had houses to return to; the occupation's now of necessity. The taxi driver gave the man some change and I handed him some toiletries, the better to get him to the next morning. There’s nothing gentle about circles, unless you pull them out of circulation and re-install them as screen-savers. You can’t see the brush strokes, the way they vary in height and density, only flat splashes of color. A father held his phone up so his baby could watch a video while he and his wife watched Van Gogh’s paintings dissolve and form again as sunflower or bandaged face. The still points were shining screens, turned to record other screens. Then we left to confront the red BMW Sangha wished were black. It gets 30 mph when it’s not parked at the convention center beside the sign to “Gogh here.” We agree we're not writing much these days, just getting rid of things.