Apropos of very little,
Prompted by the need for a historical, declarative, emergency statement in the event of my capture,
My mind builds a vignette
Molly and Thomas.
A grey tabby lady with a calm demeanor and a thin tail,
A grey tabby boy with a white chest and long whiskers.
Sitting next to me on an ugly brown couch, Dad’s favorite.
We’re watching “A League of their Own.”
I get so frustrated at the end I slapped my hand down and sent Molly skittering.
My mother scolds me for my temper.
I wonder – will this mise en scène be so clear when the camouflaged men stand over me and ask me authentication questions? “What were the names of your cats in 1990?”
Will I remember that raggedy brown couch?
Will I feel that tuft of white fur?
Or will I simply stutter out in fear their names like anchor points
Holding my mind down in chaos?
The crystalline historical certainty of Molly and Thomas,
Reaching through time to verify me as their human.
I have an issue. I have this line that I came up with while free-forming in the car. The problem with free-from/beat poetry while driving is that, unless you have the presence of mind to record yourself, you forget all the cool stuff you came up with by the time you reach the driveway. I hit the same refrain:
Turgid, tumultuous tumbling words
I love alliteration. There is something about hitting the same letter – the same note – while putting together similar syllables that just sits well in my heart.
And while I know that I pulled in Shakespeare and Dr. Seuss while I was riding the beat, I can’t for the life of me remember this morning what I said.
Then let the lesson be: When you have a good idea, pull off in the nearest truck stop and write it down. The destination will always be there.
(Unless it’s a job interview. Then go do that because food is a terrific motivator.)
I hear in my mind the sheepdogs baying
The commas unraveling unruly herds
My mind is vocabulary racing to cliffside
Turgid, tumultuous, tumbling words!