4

THE DAY: June 6, 2007.
THE TIME: 7:00ish PM
THE MUSIC: Stupid Boy; By Keith Urban
THE MOMENT: Eighths of an anticipation

“Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience…

your eyes have their silence.
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.”

--e.e.cummings

A few nights ago I stuck my head out of a passenger’s seat window and closed my eyes to the night spinning past me. I waited for truth to rise and conquer all of the day’s passive resistance.

Next: I saw an impenetrable stretch of shadowy pine trees, and yet a sunken red moon shone through unknown dusty openings.

then, there was hope in me.

...moment...