Wednesday, June 29, 2022
This morning, a sleeping person was in a Coleman green bag in Kla Ha Ya Park. He was up against the tall retaining wall, with his cap-covered head close to bushes at the park's west end. I forgot he was there until I straightened up from “Search for Needle at Sea Bottom,” #18 in 24-form tai chi chuan.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field From a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?
He was walking away from me with his green sleeping bag wrapped around his shoulders, trailing down his back, and dragging on the grass.
Did they get you to trade Your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange A walk-on part in the war For a leading role in a cage?
I finished the forms and watched his camping green form, topped with a dark hat, walk up the concrete ramp to First Street, then followed him as he walked past me on the sidewalk above until he passed under the waving American flag hanging from the lamp post.
How I wish, how I wish you were here We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl Year after year Running over the same old ground What have we found? The same old fears Wish you were here
[Note: Inspired by my first screening of “The Story of Wish You Were Here,” a documentary released in 2012 ~w.]
A Sleeping Person in the Park