it was a roller coaster type of day today was
a roll up slow
and a screech down fast
and turns and twists
and upside down summersaults on the metal one
and long spirited flaunts through the wooded trails of the wooden one
a roller coster type day
and seemingly smooth sailing on the other fronts
but somehow feeling roller coastery after all
at the end of the sun part of the day
when the dusk passes into dark night
and not even the stars or moon have made a difference
in the lighting of the psyche.
a glass of wine with a hand mower on the label
passes for pleasant,
slight sadness is confused with quiet relaxation
I think it is the thought of existence and pasts
that triggers waves of rides
subtle
and minor
a pickle full of spice to flavor the night
wakes up palates and makes songs seem sweeter
this morning tennis was 6-3 loss
and then it was 6-0 stomp
had they lost focus? or desire?
had we improved so in the time of the sun rising higher
or was it just a roller coaster type day
nice - and fun - and fine and laughter filled
but roller coaster as well
and there in a rolling meadow,
beautiful rolling meadow
HAL, a bohemoth, stood slab faced into the sky
i chased it down
i had to
it was compelling
its architecture penetrating enlightening overpowering
clean, lines like I'd never seen before
a building in the meadow, amidst the hills and mountains
27 stories high by my reckoning
alone, and 27 stories high
windows somewhere
and windowless elsewhere
i stopped in awe
and urged the kids out of the car
to stand and contemplate what was in front of us
none came out
just me
the only kid in awe of some brilliant architect
and the shape he put there
Otis center for elevator testing
somewhere within, an elevator or two sweep up and down
doors opening and closing
for new sights and sounds
for new lives to find
and up along those 27 stories or two
on the side where windows live
i guess some men and women work
in offices
next to whirring elevators
and some of them kids at heart i hope
stopping to marvel
that they sit some 27 stories or so
in the air
over the meadows
as if perhaps they were the neighboring mountain itself
they're not
but what are dreams made of
if not dreams and flights of fancy themselves.
a roll up slow
and a screech down fast
and turns and twists
and upside down summersaults on the metal one
and long spirited flaunts through the wooded trails of the wooden one
a roller coster type day
and seemingly smooth sailing on the other fronts
but somehow feeling roller coastery after all
at the end of the sun part of the day
when the dusk passes into dark night
and not even the stars or moon have made a difference
in the lighting of the psyche.
a glass of wine with a hand mower on the label
passes for pleasant,
slight sadness is confused with quiet relaxation
I think it is the thought of existence and pasts
that triggers waves of rides
subtle
and minor
a pickle full of spice to flavor the night
wakes up palates and makes songs seem sweeter
this morning tennis was 6-3 loss
and then it was 6-0 stomp
had they lost focus? or desire?
had we improved so in the time of the sun rising higher
or was it just a roller coaster type day
nice - and fun - and fine and laughter filled
but roller coaster as well
and there in a rolling meadow,
beautiful rolling meadow
HAL, a bohemoth, stood slab faced into the sky
i chased it down
i had to
it was compelling
its architecture penetrating enlightening overpowering
clean, lines like I'd never seen before
a building in the meadow, amidst the hills and mountains
27 stories high by my reckoning
alone, and 27 stories high
windows somewhere
and windowless elsewhere
i stopped in awe
and urged the kids out of the car
to stand and contemplate what was in front of us
none came out
just me
the only kid in awe of some brilliant architect
and the shape he put there
Otis center for elevator testing
somewhere within, an elevator or two sweep up and down
doors opening and closing
for new sights and sounds
for new lives to find
and up along those 27 stories or two
on the side where windows live
i guess some men and women work
in offices
next to whirring elevators
and some of them kids at heart i hope
stopping to marvel
that they sit some 27 stories or so
in the air
over the meadows
as if perhaps they were the neighboring mountain itself
they're not
but what are dreams made of
if not dreams and flights of fancy themselves.
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