Friday, July 21, 2006


A long line of noisy traffic winds its way through the delicate beauty of a crisp midwinter evening.

The sun is leaving the sky; the sky is fading. Dusk.

As I drive my radio tells me of brutal wars in far away lands and petty arguments close to home.

I am struck by an idea; it is human memory that strings time together. Memory takes this present moment, the smallest thing in the universe, and binds it with an infinity of other moments to make a war, or an argument, or...

Soon I will arrive at my lovers house and I will rap on the door - brass on brass. I will barely have time to observe the first star I’ve seen that night when out will come a kiss, and an embrace, and a warm breathing in the ear. And there will be no war in the world.

There will be no war in my world.