orgami's Diaryland Diary

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sun is hot on me like gleaming cars

truck exhausts rumbling at the lights
the eyes on me..My hair blows in my face
my seats jacked up for diggin in on the trails

pedestrians with bags of goods to take home and marvel or put away the tireless salinity of the flats of existance shinning like mirages in their eyes restless in sleep...

trees wave the chaos theory rush against
the sky blue and rippled with clouds
I am a handmade figment of truth
I am cut from a blanket that was cursed

the mall is alive with vehicles and people.dust and heat grit to tender betwen these old teeth between breaths..
I am old but not yet older. I have seen
I have survived

the escarpment is far away.. a good half
hour walk to the trails and twenty minutes to get up there off trail and sit in the dungy heat..peaceful the light falling through..but I never do..I know it exists..if I need it I shall go.. In the meantime I cycle lock the bike and do the crawl.. pick up the Hollywood flavour spray cologne the purple bottle...and freshen up my flavour to prowl some more...maybe check out a mag..or a book and steal some looks... and at Chippewa Creek on Cassels where the trees lean over the
road the shallow flowing water will be
tea coloured and alive
travelling somewhere

9:52 p.m. - 2012-09-17

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