We stride the days on braced rays of light. Summer soaks in the SPF, my skin still tones. I am the tan man in brown pants with a curly fro' placing the frames of mind in delicate designs across street corners and countrysides. I lay awake when sleep time comes, overcome by the swelling of afterthoughts; praying the ensuing days are full of promise, gratitude and dream juice.
I want and need the colors of my deep dark heart to bleed stark messages to embark the passage ways like Steam Engines of old, destined for new land.
Huge plans in the palm of small hands placed against the skyline hoping "GOD" see's signs or the Universe can disperse my net worth within the next few years. Approaching a crossroad in time for youth decline and health in mind like carrot juice and veggie burgers could counter or refine my heart's design. Skipping beats on beat like the illest drummer of my dreams: I gallop across canvas strokes, awesome jokes, prods and pokes and vocal notes for similar or different folks.
Thrust into the figure of a father without an outline to trace from; I wade through days of 7am wake up calls on the head with baseball bats, bouncy balls and other gadgetry 2 year old's are inclined to use when they can barely speak. I hear him loud and clear and painfully dear. Am I up? Cloudy eyes watching "our" blood coarse through his veins. He's on a crash course to absorb so much pain, but he smiles. So I smile. We smile together through frustrations and joy. He computes these emotions in the mind of such a small boy.
I hope to enjoy more days in the sun not worrying about the ensuing cancer treatments, possible heart failure or failing as a father. I just want to live in the moment, in between talk radio, newspaper articles, hearsay and uncomfortable silence. I want my strides to be slow, smooth and wide; encapsulating the everything that is this life, here and now, while I'm awake, aware and vital.