the quiet observer January 22, 2012

went for a walk along the bonanza trail. the trail starts at the park across the street, goes along the parkway, and then loops around a park of soccer fields and tennis courts– at least that’s as far as i’ve made it.

there was a terrible accident on the parkway as i passed by — many paramedics and other emergency vehicles, sirens screaming at sedentary cars apparently frozen by the spectacle. every moment counts in this life.

sometimes i think that people like me, the quiet observers, were put here to see the beauty in the ordinary, to transform the macabre into delight, and to make sure that there are a few extra moments of whimsy to enjoy.

i was listening to classical indian flute music, which sometimes clears my mind, but on this night, my mind was playing with words, composing haiku:

the pheromones of

dissimilar dna

drive me fucking wild

although, technically not a haiku for nary a seasonal implication.

i was also thinking that there would be more whimsy in the world if words like nary were used in casual conversation more often.

i shall post the haiku as a separate poetic interlude, although i must mention that the hormonal nature of the verse conicides with my hormonal cycle, along with a spike in my argumentativeness, depth of emotion, and a physical heaviness.