Fresh Air From The Age

50 Year Plan

-June comes.
-Graduate.
-The rest of them go off to find themselves and drink in slack American institutions.
-I move to a city somewhere and play the role of something to somebody. This role could be a repetitive job or a meaningful relationship.
-Ill live in that city for a year, ditch the job or the girl and go to another city. Start over.
-Ill do this till I cant anymore or until someone wants to buy my words.

The chapter ends if I cant do it anymore; a new chapter begins if someone buys my words.

-No ties anywhere. No ties to the job, no ties to the people, no ties to the place.
-Somehow, somewhere, ill run into a lot of money.
-I take this money and buy a small, one story house on a beach somewhere.
-I wont have neighbors. I wont have mail. I wont have people.
-Ill have the rising and setting sun peeking in and out of my window and my words.
-Ill go on the rooftop of my house when dusk approaches and smoke grass every day.

The sun will never seem as intense.

-Ill write about it the next day; when I wake up in the afternoon.
-Ill ride an old bike on a dirt road into the small neighbouring town to buy cans of food. The dark-skinned locals will look at me strangely, making up my past in their heads. They will fish early the next morning, shrugging off thoughts of the strange-looking man.

-Ill return to my house one day; dusk approaching.
-Ill be looking at the Monet skies and looking forward to another beautiful moment watching the sunset. Another moment when id feel something lacking, too.

Upon reaching my doorstep, id find you there; you, who I abandoned in those lost cities, who I told I didnt care, who I couldnt see, who I couldnt help.
You, who I always thought of when I was watching those countless setting suns.

posted by Gary @ 11/30/2006 07:07:00 PM