Ice Cream
Well. Feeling very cyber and fairly disconnected, I’m updating, chatting, watching and writing — all online, all at once. While eating ice cream…
Listening to the highway. Feeling the window breeze.
There’s an old Gary Numan song looping, fragmentary, inside my head. It’s dark. That cool breeze is rustling.
I remember sitting on a bench, under green rustling trees, reading an Andre Norton novel about a green world. Andre Norton hyperlinks to another novel, Breed to Come, found and checked out of my grade school library. Jump-cut to me-as-a-child walking home from school in the late Spring, thinking of Summer vacation. Morph it so that I flow older, the setting shifting from sidewalk to sand. Walking on the beach, the waves thump-whispering — almost like the sounds of cars swishing by on the highway, but –
I’m in a cottage by the sea, at night, skin warm from the set sun.
Eating ice cream from John’s, on the Outer Banks — and thinking how still the world is. How deep.
And connected.