Like morning forty years ago on the fourth floor psych ward, after watching sunrise. I got off work and walked along the warm river banks. Back when me and Sonny were living in Commodore Coulson's house with the big tower on top that only a riverboat captain would build. And you could see... everything...from up there in Mark Twain's day, I guess. I lived in that tower with Janey later on. No, it was before. She's the one who found that house cuz of all the mailboxes out front. So she figured they'd rent rooms.
On that amazing day walking through reflection of sun and trees on glass-still waters with James Taylor in my mind "geese in flight and dogs that bite" wishing you were here to share it with. Not "you" as anyone particular, but Janey or Sue or Cathy or anyone. Just someone beautiful enough to recognize them selves in all that beauty all around that perfect day and perfect place. Later Sonny wants to put an antenna up on top the tower so I go up and do that. But doesn't help the crummy old tv of his.
Riding along the river banks of riverside park, it goes by quick. Big geese on the water, I heard them honking on the way but you hear that all the time. A lovely sound like you're going somewhere, for some reason. Like looking out of barred windows at the white trails of a passenger jet against the blue sky. Dreaming of goin' somewhere.
Or for the geese maybe it's too cold, or maybe it's time to mate. What else is there in life. They're in the middle of the river swimming against current which leaves them standing still sort of. Later I pass the ballpark on the left where they're getting ready for...spring, I guess. I could turn here, and head back, but think I'll go on a ways, for the exercise, or just to see what's there. It's been awhile.
Up on the right is the boat dock where I took Rudy (Valentino) our big old collie dog that Yolanda bought with our meager savings when the kids were little. And like collie dogs he protected them from harm. Knocking me over when we played football and the girls were a little older, cuz he thought I might hurt them. But tonight he's dying from the maggots swarming his body from inside out. And the cold river water is all he wants cuz he can stand/float in it. He can't do that on land, not for a week or more; and not now, his last night before I put him down. He doesn't want to leave...yeah, who would.
But Yolanda left us, me and the kids, and in that hard demise who's gonna care for a dog with cancer. And so it goes, and so it went. Stretching Rudy on the ground in the backyard so I can measure to dig the grave. He watches me and I guess he knows and neither one of us can make it right.
And on and on, riding along, not thinking of then or not too much. Past trees on the bank, and long-dead trees in the water, up to where me and Gramp used to go fishing. Til that time he fell coming up the bank, and broke his ribs. Then lying in bed for a month or more. One day he's all excited cuz he took his teeth out and his little dog ran off with 'em. Wants me to get 'em back for him.
Is funny, he knew he was gonna die, but not yet, not for another ten years. So there was time yet. There always is, and then there isn't. My granddaughter complaining about her friends. They tug at her, pull her in different directions. They hate her boyfriend and he hates them. So she's in the middle, the middle of nowhere. "Where do you live" I ask her. But she's uncertain. So "where do you live" I repeat, pointing at my temple. And she gets it, she understands. "You live here" I tell her. That's the only place there's meaning, the rest is just passing by.
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