<bgsound src="midis/gp_pelly.mid" loop=infinite> WHO ARE YOU ©By Russ





The back yard mess has been returned to its normal chaotic state...pick and shovel hosed down and put away, rubber boots back in a box on the porch to regather their spiders and dust. The living room floor is freshly painted in dark forest green. (a poor man’s fix). Tiles are expensive so they will have to wait. Dishes mutter at me from the kitchen sink, soaking impatiently, while I head for the porch. Breakfast is beans from a can, wrapped in a tortilla, to be eaten outside...no gourmet meals here. A Scrub Jay hurtles down to the feeder....a blue rock tossed into a pond. Small birds splash in his wake. Tree swallow preening, balancing atop the telephone wire, cleaning each feather from base to tip, gently rocking back and forth, bright morning sun reflecting off her silver breast, flashing messages of tranquility. A dove namedSpot calls out in his un-ending refrain, ‘who are you..who are you’? I answer softy, with stark metaphysical truth; ‘I dunno, I dunno’. Rust-green pears tossed gently by the wind, bob lazily in a green leafed sea, as I wait for Jason’s morning call. He gets bored so easily, this immature child built like a man. So lost, just drifting, in a sea of dispair. I’m the drift wood he clings to while waiting for fairer winds to move him along. I know quick fixes are for floors, painted forest green. And porches are for sitting, drifting, and mind mending. At least I like to see things that way.

Russ----7/7/98







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