The Sirens
Posted on | September 2, 2010 | 1 Comment
Memory is my Siren song
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I can’t remember very much from my early childhood. Images flash in my mind and I’m hesitant to claim them as memories, unsure whether or not they’re really mine or sponged up from novels, movies or old photobooks.
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Standing in knee deep swishy grass, an endless sea of golden straw, moving like a great river whichever way the wind blows.
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We are looking for cat tails. There must be a river or stream close by.
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The silhouette of the Rocky Mountains stretches across the horizon, a painterly backdrop.
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That happened. Perhaps. I know our old street outside Boulder, CO butted up against a field where they used to launch hot air balloons.
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I’d like to ride in a hot air balloon one day, if only to match the floating, disembodied sensation I feel in my heart sometimes. It’s got to feel closer to flying than an airplane.
And although it always gives me a sore throat, I’ll smoke a cigarette on the front porch for my dad tomorrow. It’s his death day and although there might be a better way to memorialize him, this one is the truest.
much love,
Sam
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September 3rd, 2010 @ 7:22 pm
i love you. i’ll be thinking of him too.