Sunday, June 29, 2014

Feeling the Bumps in the Road

Every time I drive by that temple with the statue out front a memory snaps back to the night in my van on an adjacent street where I slept when I lived life more raw holding time in my hands. Store parking lots - some I stayed in, sometimes their nearby streets I parked on for a night - triggers of my adventures a card catalog of memories to a life that recedes.  Passing by these places I feel it all again instead of a blur of scenery - the city's etched in . Memories attached to landmarks that I wouldn't have if I coasted through life - wasn't a nomad. All the times in LA when I didn't have a car, walking everywhere locks those memories in, indelibly marked like the ink on my skin. Feeling concrete unsmooth, broken under my feet, the world passing slowly offering memories a seat.

Shock absorbers, plush seats, take the feeling out of life, we filter our cigarettes like it's saving our lives. Give me that punch of an unfiltered, hand rolled in my lungs - I feel like I'm living through unmitigated events like rolling down the windows letting the breeze touch my skin . Life passes by and we don't stop to grab it though these memories are all we keep till we pass our last breath. No one wants to feel the pain, the heat, the bumps just give them a drink, drugs some A/C - fuck. Try to avoid her clutches and you'll float by - a zombie walking but not really alive. I like to be happy but the rough parts add a flavor that wakes you sharpens your view. I sit in the pain and sadness, enjoy them too they'll be over before I know it but I'll remember how I grew. Time flits away, dispersing like a cloud of smoke from the lips, it's not waiting, not holding for you it's taken it's bow.

Feel the road, the bumps and the cracks - they make life more full every time you look back.

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