Saturday, March 13, 2010
Rest Stop
I was peddling a one-speed bicycle seventy miles an hour on a freeway with my wife and grandson aboard. We had one piece of luggage strapped to the frame: a leather saddlebag. Confused by the signs, I took the wrong exit and went up a hill. We got off in a flat graveled area surrounded by leafy trees. There were no cars or bicycles in sight. Several people were milling around, not at all impressed by how we’d arrived. Up ahead, on higher ground, there was a large round concrete tank. Hovering just above it was an empty wooden rocking chair, turning slowly in the breeze.
Added yesterday to the Annandale Dream Gazette. My thanks, as always, to Lynn Behrendt.
Recently Linked: It’s a pleasure to welcome JRonson as a new follower. A young artist from Lisbon, Portugal, JRonson has dreams of being a famous painter. Judging by his blog, PlasticFreak World, he is well on his way.
Update:
In the Forum: Depression smokes.
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8 comments:
What a bunch of cads to be unimpressed. Better to rock atop the bunker and watch the milling flow than to waste your ticking clock in explanation.
Absolutely. Excellent. And since it would take me two hours to come up with a worthy rejoinder, we will leave it at that.
Ah! and Ha! Clever back-hand. Game, set, match to Mr. Michaelian.
Just don’t ask me to jump over the net. Unless I’m asleep. I might be able to do it then.
Ha! So this is where one of those Seven Chairs
ended up...
Double-ha! Sneaking around, eh?
What is it about rocking chairs? I had a dream long ago that included a seaside boardwalk with row of rocking chairs on it, all of which began to rock wildly although there was no wind. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of pure panic! (There's more to the dream, but that's the rocking chair part of it....)
I don’t know. Too old to rock ’n’ roll, too young to die? Although, I must say, I prefer Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.
Joe, there’s no Tulling!
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