Wednesday, February 6, 2013

phil collins and the eternal sunrise


i dont know if you've been fortunate enough to witness the sun rise over the river bridge of not, but it is certainly a sight to behold. the light slowly peaks out from the corners of the sky, the shadow of the sun slowly rises behind the mountain and all of its glory is reflected on the glistening waters below. in this light at the break of day everything looks full of hope as though anything is possible. even the everyday barges that pass under the bridge, look like shining ships embarking on their maiden voyages to new exotic lands, its exactly the sort of thing that makes you believe in some sort of divinity.  its a terrible traffic obstruction! people slow down to a crawl, just staring out their windows in awe. some idiotic dreamer or hopeless romantic cant peel their eyes away and inevitably will ram their car into the fellow in front of them and the police and emergency response vehicles and damned insurance adjusters show up and photograph and document all the little details of the scratches or paint scrapings and we end up adding a special report to our radio programs just for "accidents." throughout the years there have been innumerable "accidents" along this one mile stretch of road. that is the thorn of the rose. quite a deadly beauty that all manners of men and beasts would flock to. which is exactly why i avoid this route to work. the details escape me now, but it could be avoided, there was a flood or some other intrepid force of nature that rendered my usual quiet platitudinous drive impassable. the drive in was quite aesthetically pleasing with relatively little sign of "accidents." the drive home was a bird of a different feather. what do i get for stepping out side of the lines going against the grain?! the thickest fog in forty years. exactly forty years to the date according to the radio broadcast. if i thought traffic crawled in the morning haze of the sun, i was sorely mistaken. i felt as though my car  only moved fractions of an inch every few hours or so. it was agony and i was exhausted. i stared out into the fog, so thick that the center of the bridge disappeared in its grasp. i cursed myself for allowing myself to be caught in such a web of torment. i did nothing to land myself here. ive lived a quiet simple life. why would whatever divine forces there may be, see fit to trap me here?? sulking i fix my eyes on the road ahead of me, or what little of it i can see and slowly drag forward. bits and pieces of old memories float and fly through my head none of the dots connect. i see something lying in the road ahead, a single dingy saddle shoe. more bits and pieces swirl. then i see a red sweater. all pistons are firing but none are hitting their mark. and then i see the smashed bicycle wheel. and all the gears snap into place and its 1973 im driving home from work the windows are down its a hot muggy night and the thickest fog i've ever seen is rolling in. a blur of red, a shriek of terror, a loud splash and a dingy saddle shoe hits my windshield, i hear a cry and i drive forward inching my way across the one mile stretch. fast forward back to 2013 and a river drenched girl wearing a red sweater and a dingy saddle shoe appears in the road before me i swerve the car with a shriek of terror and a loud splash. yes the sunrise over the river bridge is certainly a sight to behold.


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