Today is Going to be Alright

The sun crawled up this morning, frolicking freakishly low; dreamily, dripping tentative tangerine brilliance upon the day. Shattering stillness with foggy, frog harmonies and swallow symphonies of honeysuckled falling flowers…slowly…silently sliding into the solitude of my Saturday. 

She crept cautious and as gentle as an obedient child across the gathering hustle in the streets of my A.

My tomato paste head swam shaky beneath the surface of the subsequent shine, recalling duct-taped tattered visions of yellowed ribbons wrapped tight on every tree in third-person narrative; of tea with Ken Burns and William S. Burroughs in the balcony of the Ford Theatre while the limousines wait in the street.  Snorting powder from the belly of a stripper named Yesterday in the rusting bed of a ’68 Ford pick-up with suede seats parked on the corner of 6^th and How to Forget. (a symbiotic salutation of sorrow)

My ashtray mouth spat venom to the fiend and my ears burned with uncertainty.  My skin writhed with knowledge – my eyes blind with frivolity.  My chaotic intellect vomited truth, cleansed my darkened soul and it sounded like Tomorrow!

In a room full of dust drizzled debris I was assaulted with accusing, anomalous, adolescent insolence; adulterous adorations of nimble, numb ne’er-do-wells seeking solace from the shadow of doubt – whistling whiskey weighted wisdom.

“Get down, Moses!”

Questioning. 

Judging. 

Sinning. 

Enticing me with ecstatic indifference to the inevitable edge of endorphin exploding endlessness.

Crafting.

Craving.

Crying.

Creating catacombs of catastrophic clarity, calming the courteous criminals; courting the carnivorous cacophony.

I hover in my hovel. 

Humiliated.

Horrified.

Humbled.

Then through my east lite – with the warmth of a mother to a babe she found her way into my heart and laid her golden hand upon my head, calming my troubled soul and assuring me of a peace to come. In said slumbered spell, this tumultuous trance, I danced.  Naked in the rain of my unreality, unashamed and unrelenting I danced.  Twisting; mind, body and soul wrenching, contorting in my madness I screamed to the sun and the shade and the day “I am ALIVE! And there is nothing that you can do about it!”

Then I awoke. 

I awoke in my little house, on my little street, in my little bed, in my little neighborhood. I had air in my lungs, my dogs by my side, the wind at my back and a smile on my face. 

I bask in the glow of morning’s compassionate, fragile embrace. 

In the distance, I hear a quivering siren and the howling, humming hilarity of the ghetto bird searching for prey. If Calvin was still alive, he would be ringing the door bell to blow leaves out of my yard or clean out my gutters. “What’s up neighb?”  In a few minutes, I’ll see my friend down the block stroll up to the Green House (they have a pool table in the driveway and a less than legal lifestyle).  The dog-walkers and joggers will follow just after that and Belle will lose her mind.  The Jehovah’s Witnesses were here last weekend so that shouldn’t be a problem today.  The neighbors of the pink house had a party last night and the stragglers are slinking off still.  Alice is already out raking her twigs into a pile for her son Bill to bag.

I love my neighborhood. 

(I wonder if this is the way Cube felt the morning before he wrote It Was a Good Day.)

It’s Saturday! 

GameDay will be on soon and maybe if I’m lucky, my beloved ‘Dawgs will eek out a victory over a lesser opponent later.

But for now, I rest.  I rest easy with the peaceful awareness that our big beautiful ball of fire has indeed rolled up again in the east and I therefore have another opportunity to do right today what I did wrong yesterday.   

Today is a new day!

Full of light and promise and hope…and today is going to be alright. 

Today is going to be all right.

Right?

Right!

(Yes, I could have simply written, “I had weird dreams last night, and then woke up in a good mood and watched a beautiful sunrise.”  But what fun would that have been?!!)