freight train leaving town

I was looking through some photos of a friend of mine the other day, and in between pictures of flowers and little people smiling I saw a strange structure that did not make sense to me, some other world device that is not from here. And I still don't know what it is, don't wanna know. I like the mystery of something unexplained but useful for people I'll never meet, never know, never love, never hate. Just strangers on the other side.

Same person and I were talking later and I asked them what they saw over there that was beautiful that day, and they said they saw children in costumes pouring out of the door of their school because it was the last day of school. And the children ran with lunchpales and capes and papers in reckless abandon, running to parent's arms and bicycles and cars driven and parked on the wrong side of the road. And I asked:

"how does that make you feel?"

Response:

"like maybe we aren't so different after all."

I love that laughter everywhere sounds the same, same noises coming out of our bodies. This universal understanding of happy or funny. A smile is a smile. Body language or gestures are pretty constant everywhere. That gives me the oddest peace, that maybe I am not alone. That somewhere someone I can't understand or don't know can shrug their shoulders or laugh at something and at that moment we have bonded on a level deeper than language or culture. Some old balefire stirred up in us, deep inside, coals warmed by the thought of another stranger getting us.

I keep my distance, naturally. It's what we've been taught to do. Build the walls, fortify yourself and everything you hold dear. Close the curtains, turn off the lights, let the bandits pass you by. Live another day. But there's no use of living like that, alone and in the dark, shaky hands and pounding hearts. It's hard, no one ever said it would be easy. But to take that risk of letting someone in... I don't know how many more times I can do it before it breaks me. Too late now though, ain't ever been much of one to give up or quit. Suppose I shouldn't start now. You can't teach an old dog new trick, people don't change; well, they rarely change. Actually, maybe they do change, but not become better, just become comfortable with you and me and everyone else and get tired of acting.

That's why all those Hollywood folk get paid so much money. It's not easy being in makeup all morning and acting like someone you aren't all day.

But here, in the real world, when those supposed movie moments happen to us, big scenes, things slow down, we look around and people walk in time to the music you listen to, and its nothing but gorgeous dressed up people and everything feels like something important, no one yells "cut!" and we don't walk off the set and into our trailers and we don't live in mansions or fly in private jets or anything really. We just take another breath, a heart beats amazingly one more time, and every scene around us bleeds into each other.

I don't know why I wrote this. Maybe I am just reaching out to someone who won't be my friend anymore who I will see soon without a doubt. Maybe it's to cry out in the only way I know how. Maybe it's therapy. Maybe it's heaven. Maybe it's hell.