Upside Down Kris

Juxtaposition I am on my bike soaking in the soft moisture of a Spring night. The whole week has left the concrete pregnant with a lot more wetness than dew. It soaks through my sneakers and smears under my nose. "I should have grabbed a bike light," I say to the darkening fields.  I imagine them totally embraced by black on my return home. I hope I don't get hit by a truck driver whose eyes can't distinguish me from the fields.  The thing is even if I had a light I don't think it would bring light to those waiting in the dark. I mean some women I saw along the bike path curving toward the main road–that road that cuts fields, that creates alcoves for McDonalds, and stop offs for truckers. It is the road that is the juxtaposition between great expanses of grass and great intersections of concrete.  The women are dark for the most part–some with chocolate skin, some with raven-like hair. One has a tutu on and two clips in her hair, but her face is hard. Another jux

Out In and out, in and out. Are you in, or are you out? A blunt question, to which my answer is out. Out of what, you may ask.   In and out of the rain, is my answer. Today the rain is a steady sheet, an open faucet which we can't shut off. The green and greenery is happy, soaking up the sustenance.  The question is can we sustain so much rain? The answer is yes. The rain will flood the water tables and overflow the embankments of the canal near my house. The rain may make cracks in the concrete, the asphalt not used to its pores overpouring. This might cause the streets to become rivulets that cars can float on. But in some days the sun will dry out the massive water. And over time–perhaps during the summer when the world is dry–we will forget nature's outburst. Today my fast footsteps took stride under the showers. I bended to them, smiling at the sprinkling because I was in it, part of it, and glad to be outside. I was in, you could say, in the way I wanted to be. But I foun

Freedom This business of freedom really gets me. It gets to me, making me question everything I do, making me review my life again and agin–moving my mind like a movie. We all have ties creating links that rein in our freedom. As each close family member takes up their role in my personal film, I would never want to redo any scenes, even those that are hard to watch. I would never want to replace anyone with other "actors" or change the story so that they're not in my movie anymore. They are part of my film and I wouldn't have it any other way. I even have a strong tie to a cat named Sophie. She's not mine (who was talking about freedom?) but she's always in my thoughts. I'll admit it: I'm hooked on a cat! I can't loosen the tie, nor do I want to. I will always hold out the string so that she can paw it. The string will never break. What is this concept known as freedom, then? To me, it's a breaking away from what I call the "everybody els

The Knowing Gray 6 o'clock in the morning and all is well!   The sleeping world is at contrasts with a non-sleeper like me. I can't sleep harder or longer, but the world is wise. The gray haze leaves a soft glaze on the morning, softening it into reflection and the will to stay in bed. "There's so much to do," my body says. But the gray responds,"Take a break. Sit and take your time with a warm water bottle on your tummy while watching out the window. This is your time with yourself...breathe in the gray." You see, gray isn't always bad. It's just a blanket so you can snooze, take it easy, put your feet up, let your hair down, let it all out, shake your wet hair and dry it off with a fuzzy, soft towel...like the beach towel you dry off with after a long swim at the sea, picking the sand out from between your toes... The gray could be in the shards of a long, hot shower, when you take your time not caring about the knock on the door, the phone rin