sometimes they fall in swirly descent on a misty morning, shades of red orange salmon yellow
sometimes, but not often, they smell like fresh-baked bagels with 'everything' seasoning, or like the salty spray washing between your toes as they goofily sink into the white sand ..
they're thrown, flown, driven
can be made of rubber or metal or wood or flesh or cotton
some are furry
some don't smile
some of them are tall and dark with broad white mouths the scent of fine aged rum
..
life preserved ..
something like salted meat my grandad stored in a wooden barrel behind the counter, or the bundled weight of a tiny wet body held close to the chest on a churning wailing sea ..
a coat-off-a-back can be a life preserver, or a piece of pizza, a pair of warm socks, a "good morning", a flask of hot whiskey to weather the dark night under a bush
blurred memories
the aroma of mac 'n cheese
the sight of a mountain range or a tiny bird awash in spring
a passing comment
a thought timeily floating into your mind
an imagined bliss
a hope
life preservers preserve life, like they're wont to do ..
the tiny wet body muscles
the thought grows hard edges
you lie on the white sand
eat the pizza
sip the whiskey
cook the salted meat with rice and split peas
.. bliss for the moment
that black-splotched white four-legged friend lying just there close by or chasing a squirrel up a tree
a small room where everything matters, even the window that hangs from the canvas ceiling
some days life preservers take the shape of a phone call or a package in the mail
sometimes a package you mail
a song - you just now got the lyric
a reflection in the coffee shop window
the color of spring
two shoes standing just there
the surprisingly loud banging of a nosy woodpecker or alarming shriek of a tiny screech owl
an aged woman working to climb a few steps
a faded photograph
a familiar verse come to mind
(i wish more) often my life preservers float to me in the undefined face of a brown-skinned long-haired friend with calloused touch and a slow steady gait, soft-spoken, with very intense eyes that appear to bore right through my calloused heart, making holes for the light to shine through to the other side ..
i have never seen him face-to-face, but I recognize his shadow as he walks just there, a few feet in front of me ..
sometimes he stops, looks around and holds out his hand to take mine
sometimes I reach out mine to take his
.. we're easy like that
i just wish it were much more often ..
and we didn't let go
I didn't release
life preservers don't always preserve life - that same calloused brown hand once said "if you hold onto life you lose it ; you have to let go to find it"
sometimes, many more times than we like, life preservers come shaped like death - some dying's got to happen before life comes floating your way, bright colored, tossed and flipped, and sometimes doused by the waves of wrath ..
but it comes, ya?
reach for it
especially if it's a brown-colored hand with very intense eyes
.. he could save your life
Wow!!!
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