Sept 18

This morning there was a big storm coming.
They said it could last several days
I with nothing in the house
got up and
on my way I pass the military
brown housing compound
So bland I forgot what
I wanted in groceryland
the shelves were stocked with
generic brand products
everything
wrapped as equally uniform as
the neighboring residents of the base.
Wading with intention through the torment of
anxious people I managed to gather a few
key items to sustain me over the coming days.
Upfront it was a money madhouse, frantic payments being made every
which way.

Its funny to me what becomes apparent in such hectic conditions, how all the noise that at once seems to be overwhelmingly oppressive can slowly fade into the background, and even later perceived as silence. Just as the darkness can quickly become light, when dark is all you've got. Instead of me not being present it is my senses that abandon me, and everything runs automatically. Really, there's no need to build robots when we do just fine. Through the aisles I go, choosing products, maneuvering around the other malfunctioning robots as though none of this was even really here. I imagine that we are all in a black box acting out the space around us, defining its very existence by our movements alone.

Quietly my ability to feel the world around made its way back, though I couldn't tell which sense I regained first, I just suddenly heard a noise that surreptitiously
guided me to a quiet corner.
There the harmonica played an old man.
Beside him a discarded egg crate and a
bass waiting to pick me up and play.
Under the stairs we were sheltered from
time and fear
Things were blue and funky;
when I left it was 9 in the morning
Outside there was no storm, no sound
only sun.

I'm really rather tired now, I bet I'll sleep well tonight,not like last night.