Something about a young boy…and water.


A young boy takes to the road, and stopping along a fence line peers through pickets into the yard and home of a family that lives there. It is not surprising that the wind blows, or that gypsies on vacation have pitched tents here and there curbside and garish and helter skelter or that a lose tent line snaps the young boys arm as he walks by. Now a baritone whisper semi secretly issues from a home the boy is walking behind, is it chasing a note and hinting at a song a man might sing for a departing comrade or of a father singing an opera of pride and boast at his sons graduation? The possibility of a song like this being sung to this boy are next to minuscule and a long time even from contemplation.

A sparrow flies and lands on the shoulder of the young boy, and he keeps walking – past the vagabonds cooking meals of hominy and flat bread, until he and the sparrow reach an open field as if by predestination. In a circle coupled with springs fixed to a steel frame and tautly stretched fabric, a man jumps up and down on a trampoline while praying. Underneath, there is an underground stream of fresh water rushing towards a sunset and a beach of relaxation. But the man jumping up and down is not a swimmer, and the tinkle and drip of its water is merely an inconvenient hallucination – an unwelcome mirage of freshness in the desert of his understanding – and a memory of his failure to even try submerging himself in its wetness.

This at the center of the young boys attention, which is held for a moment like a vise by the jumping mans eyes, which seem like just the right kind of coal to never burn or know love, and the man said – “Son it is an unwise fish who attempts the river unseen – come jump with me until the ravens come, and we are taken to our final destination – to sleep at the foot of Sinai listening to klezmer clarinets play destination duets about a redeemer. But the young boy with his innate sense of smell and his undiminished thirst for oceans starts to dig, listening only to the sparrows chirp and song – its street slang and rune talk, and then mud appears, and water flows, and soon he is swimming and leaves the sparrow to be alone.


7 responses to “Something about a young boy…and water.

  1. fascinating, I saw it all so clearly.

  2. Oh goodness me, I need a lie down! That was some journey he went on and what a difficult route he decided upon with muddy water. I may have been tempted to stay with the sparrow.

  3. I’d kill for your imagination…

  4. Welcome to Poets Who Blog! We are happy to have you added to our blogroll.

  5. Poetman, you got mail……

  6. jo – Hello – I checked my box and no mail – but maybe you are communicating something else…I love a mystery…but not one of those certified kind telling me I somehow owe you a bunch of money though…I could have sworn I paid you…dang.

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