prosthesis

Three Walking by DeLumine

Today was grey in LA. No rain. The city was a gloomy kinda stain.

What a privilege to stay in bed. What a privilege to be alive. I am grateful. No decisions, conserving energy, resting, rebuilding.

I walked through MacArthur Park. The water was an oily black.

People didn't avoid my eyes on the subway today. I must've looked appropriate for eye contact.

The West Lake Theater sign looks like Coney Island. Underneath it lay the tents and gates and faded lots, and a Yoshinoya, a bright blister on the corner.

The street merchants were mostly packed for the night. A few still had tables up with their goods. I can't wait till the Shenzhen state of affairs hits downtown LA and the rest of the mixed enchilada that is Latin Earth. Kids flying around on little drones, nourishment abundant and available allowing people to communicate with healthy energy and healthy minds.

I think squalor will exist for a while beyond the technological flattening of society. Enlightenment and the responsibilities of self will result from the knowledge revolution after the filters are streamlined. After success becomes recognized as an inward battle for self discovery rather than an outward struggle to maintain ("climb") social hierarchy. Not that it wont always be a little of both.

Reality snaps through my ears and back into my brain in the station as a lady waves around a taser, sparking it every few moments to announce its potential.

On the train three men talk about the importance of black seed oil. The conversation evolves to stress the importance of essential oil in general. A black poster encased in glass with ESSENTIALS captures my periphery as we pass through Hollywood and Vine.

I wish America wasn't so addicted to fossils. Our whole way of life could be so much more inclusive, productive and fulfilling if we allowed space for our young ones to lead and grow into leadership through innovation.

We don't know the weight of our own ideas.

Back on my street I saw a black cat being chased by a sparrow across the road. The cat stopped every few steps in a casual meandering as if to sigh with frustration. The sparrow would follow at a distance, hoping along the ground, every few hops chirping exclamations.

I know the cat. I've seen it several times; talked to him; pet him in the middle of the street early in the morning. He came up to me and plopped there, rolling around. Such a relaxed and happy being. I wonder how the two were connected. Maybe the cat was just a lightning rod for the sparrow's frustration.

He lead the sparrow up steps, the whole while looking at me like, "this is ridiculous..." I left them there at the awning of an apartment, three feet away from each other in a stare off. The cat stole one more glance at me before I rounded the corner.

The next morning I went outside for one of my hundreds of walks and a sparrow's wing was at the foot of my front steps, the feathers extended slightly as in mid flight.