20160604 (leaving)

We saw it from I-90 coming back from vacation. Two million balloons looked more like smoke

Checking the Blogger stats 

Periodically I have to wonder

Who and how many benighted

Souls in Russia are trying to 

Learn English by reading my

Blog to render their portion 

Of the world map a slightly 

Darker green than the folks

In Kazakhstan who come in

With only a pale green like

France. Of course Blogger 

Doesn’t rank them by the 

Time spent in actual reading,

Rather the fact that in their

Search for XXXX pornography

They accidentally surfed onto

My site. I’ve never given any

Hint of the lurid (except I once

Categorized an essay as “concupi-

Scence”) doesn’t really sound

Like the thing that would make 

Them come crawling back—

France would be much deeper

Green were that the case. No,

Sadly most of my fleshy desires

Generate only warm homespun

Cuddlings in some prairie house,

Rather than the “running through

Neon New York streets with torn

Pantyhose and a partly unbottoned

Blouse to finish off what began

As idle chatter and a little

Frenching in a taxi ride home

From Yonkers.” I don’t 

Have the spunk for that kind of 

Thing anymore. Suppose we

Kissed, maybe had a glass of

Wine and fell asleep while

Talking about the distinct lack

Of fin-de-siecle excitement at

The turn of the last century (was

The fuss about 2K it?—nothing

Romantic, nothing exhilarating?)

I did break my arm (I think

My right) on New Year’s Eve, 1999—

Knocking out my wife’s

Hope of attending a nice party for

A perfectly miserable time nursing

An injured husband behind emergency

Room curtains until 3 AM. I didn’t

Sense the event led to societal

Unrest, at least anywhere near as

Much as the failure of all the 

Computers to fail as predicted—

What did these wizards know

If they couldn’t even get their 

Own world right? But I got a

Very good excuse to call in

Sick and spend the next six

Weeks reading books I had

Wanted to read but never the 

Time for. And, better than

Anything else, I got to regard

Myself again as a thinker, not a

Middle-management bureaucrat.

It was refreshing and rendered 

Me virtually unfit to resume 

Work on my return. My arm

Had healed, but my soul had

Been irrevocably freed. It was

Like taking the last year off

Before retirement. I wasn’t a 

Slacker that year but I wasn’t 

Going to kill for goals like

They wanted. The day I left

There wasn’t a wet eye in

Sight.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016