Rain
To: ms_allthat@hotmail.com, loveisarose11@hotmail.com, dee_offner@hotmail.com, mystree_1@hotmail.com, lorelis@hotmail.com, decafi@hotmail.com, someone_new1@hotmail.com, RTMW62@cs.com, jae7244@hotmail.com, patty757@aol.com_denae65@excite.com, charma@leaco.net, ip253406@ip.pt, ladyelan@angelfire.com, themissright@yahoo.com, oklahomalady@excite.com, wahine10@hotmail.com, chantellspring@hotmail.com, jcbinks@msn.com, sierra34@angelfire.com, lighthouse75@hotmail.com, ksotulsa@yahoo.com, darcysmail@yahoo.com, tlfie@groupz.net, poetinmotion@hotmail.com, chart13@excite.com, clavonec@excite.com
Subject: Rain
Date: Mon, 27 Sep 1999 09:09:18 CDT
Last night I rode over to Patty's, borrowed a white t-shirt, timer to wake me up, had a cup of coffee and watched a Robin Williams video. Usually I can't abide him, but he was good in this role. (And I have NO idea why he bothers me, just that he does. Trying to get over it.)
There was lightning moving all across the sky, and I rode back, a moving speck beneath the heavenly flashing. Crossed the tracks where a month or so ago 4 young Native American men flipped a pickup, died. Drinking, of course. I cannot pass that crossing without thinking of them and of how alcohol has once again struck, devastating lives so needlessly.
I could see the flicker of Monte's candles, so I knocked at the RV and he called me in. Sat on the side of the bed and listened as he told me of his day, of walking across the freshly disked field to his old camp, lugging back his bedroll, flashlight, other essentials. His leg is getting better. Still taking the fish tetracycline I told him about.
Well, I borrowed the timer, the t-shirt as I was to work this morning, painting. My pal told me I needed white painter pants but, not having any, I thought I would wear the blacks, get some whites ASAP. So the night was one of waking up every now and then, hearing the rain, feeling it strike my head lying up against the wall of the tent. Is it leaking?
The timer went off right on time and I was up, groping about, putting on the trousers, struggling into the coat. Still raining.
But at least the poncho was there, never used, and I unfolded and climbed into it. A lovely garish fluourescent orange. Had Neil Armstrong been wearing such a thing, we might well have seen him bouncing about on the moon. But good for visibility, yes.
So I rode through the rain, that hood obstructing my vision and me being paranoid about having lost the peripheral vision. Stopping at corners and looking back and forth like a terrapin swinging his head. Moving slowly, hands cold, the poncho over the handlebars and beneath my butt. Dry. A decent dry.
Finally, Java Break right at 7 A.M. Tony said he'd be there at 7:30, so it was good to sit there with that steaming cup of java warming my hands, a stiffly handrolled cigarette to complete the ritual.
Nicoletta was there, bright, young, lovely, friendly. Dark hair, ever so white marble skin, always smiling or laughing. I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and she laughed and said she had no idea.
Artsy?
A bit, she said. I'd like to make things.
I see you at a potter's wheel, I told her.
That or sculpting stone, she said.
Ahhh, stone. She touches me where I live. I've loved stone since I was a boy and isn't it strange I never did anything with that love in the way of sculpting? Is it too late for that? Would I be spreading myself too thin?
Now and then I check into the Cafe. Msallthat is in there, so I'll drop this for now and go give her a shout.
The guy didn't show, btw. Stood up. I suppose the work must have been outside and so the rain marks a cancellation. Ohwell. I'm up. The day is here. I feel stupid, slow. My fingers just now begin to work again.
More later.
