Wednesday, July 1, 2009

"How'd I Do?"

This place seems to be whittled down to its adult teeth, and even most of them have started to go.

That whiskey wind and old tobacco sun have taken their toll throughout the years, and perhaps we don´t choose our vices after all.

The condor shit builds up in long white lines beneath the roosts, and these cliffs, which I´ve already likened to decaying teeth, seem to have the eyebrows of an old man.

And now I´m guilty of anthropomorphizing the anthropomorphism.

It seems we´re married to these lenses.

The goats grazing on the slope to the south look like a herd of pygmy polar bears, and the moon in the morning blue sky a thumbnail caught between the folds of dimensions.

Speaking of things breaking through often uncrossable barriers, the veil between this world and the next seems to be especially flimsy at the moment.

The dearest people in my life who have stepped out of their bodies into the nakedness of spirit have been visiting my dreams just about every night, especially my dad, and I have been getting hugs that I thought were lost to me forever.

I sat on the sheep so it couldn´t get away as Brett plunged a knife into its jugular and I held my hand against its heart as it went through its final beats, and suddenly life seemed little more than a fancy and drawn out vanishing act.

Perhaps I will have engraved on my tombstone:

¨How´d I do?¨

January 2009
Provincia de Neuquen, Argentina

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