Like Sinking Seas

(Guardian, On the Road to Montreal, 2010)

Once a long time ago explorers discovered a giant rock, it was half the size of Texas, and was able to move at fast speeds. The rock was never seen moving, but the clearings it created, like a glacier, was evident enough that there was something spectacular was going on under our noses. The rock was named, The King Ruby, and to this day, no one has seen this rock move, over the ten thousand miles recorded it has travelled since its discovery a century ago.

We used to go fishing down in that pond over there (points to a glimmer of a sinking lake)[his eyes are sad, with white ghosty eyeballs.] We used to catch regular size fishes in those waters, but for some incredible reason, over the many bodies of waters I laid a rod over, they were the best tasting fish I had ever had. On some nights, when food was poorly made by an honest wife, or we simply didn't have nothing to eat, I thought long and hard about those fishes, with all that flavor, and how we never had to season them, dress'em up or nada, they were just fantastic on their own, like God made them that way. I close my eyes, and imagine those days, I see my wife, by my side, she was a tomboy back then, she fished with her father, she probably saw him in me, and she just stuck by my side, swinging that rod like a pro. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but she was better at it than me, but all the boy in me said she wasn't. It took all the man in me to finally realize that I wasn't any better, I wasn't as much as her, and that she rules the lands of my kingdom, but not by force, and not by invasion, I gave those lands to her, it was the only gift I had.

Somewhere in the field of stars above our heads, on a clear night if you look to the northeast, you can see a star that isn't a star. It's a asteroid, and they say in twenty years from now it's going to come close to us, so close that it's a problem asteroid. Over millions of dollars have been spend, and over many more millions they will keep on spending on making sure it doesn't come here (I point to my shoes, and then part them to show the earth). It's almost strange to think that a rock, in the right place in the sky with big ole eyes that glimmer like all sharks do, in the void, surrounded by darkness, are seen as vicious. They say a bite by a shark is their way of poking you, some what to shake hands, I guess we'll never understand it.

My son asked me if I thought we'd ever think of a way to stop that asteroid, if it can be destroyed, and I told him I didn't know. I thought to myself, I'd have lived a good life up until that moment, and that it was sure selfish of me to have children knowing that this world was going to end. He will only be twenty-eight by then, what kind of a life will that be when you're only starting to get the handling down, at most you can parallel park, but we're talking stunt driving like grandpa. He can't see much, but what he does see is worth seeing.

At some point tonight, I laugh myself to sleep, I tell myself nothing because there is nothing to say, everything is going to be okay (and that's that).

Farewell, with snores and snots, from one rock to another, I'm sinking like thunder, blankets be covers, and the moon sure does hover.