THERE ARE PLACES along Town Lake where poison ivy grows thick as a man's arm along cypress and hackberry hedges. A dense tangle of green obscures the light at points. Near the base of a giant cypress, where brown water slowly moves at the woody base, an untended park bench provides repose and a view of sky and water. It's dedicated to a deceased son—I forget the name now. Quiet there, off the main trail, small water lilies grow up in the murk and the muddy steps leading down to it rise steeply off behind. Walked down there after a train-ride through the park. The earth-bound babe will make its way into our bed soon. K this morning watched Teletubbies and Sesame Street, attention flat and total in the rhythms of the cathode ray. Hoa cooked eggs and toast, her belly hanging low under a hooded sweatshirt. Feral cats gathered for their breakfast of protein pellets. The black stone remains below us, under the surface of these days. It intrudes upon these apparancies. Keep moving, one step into another. A delicate motion of light reflected from a creek bed. We went around with other children on a small train, back through a tunnel to re-enter the park. Pink light on the water's surface.
Posted by Dale at May 1, 2004 09:54 PM