My stories and songs are rarely my own. I am not at the epicenter of all my adventures, thank god. Sometimes it is I who am Poncho, just a single line, the boy and his dog that play witness to some other crazy bastard tilting head at windmills, conquering cliffs and imaging laying siege to castles. I enjoy paving way and serving as a lone audience to the building legends and comedies of other romances. Out here I get to notice more of my heroes, my friends and their plots.
It is rather nice to jump and relax in the wake at others from time to time. Letting someone else drive and enjoy the ride allows for the notion of mystery as you never know where they will drive or if they will break through the dash lines and venture beyond the duck markers. The surrender of control lets you play in imagination. It’s been too long. There are few friends I trust to ride the rails. It is nice to be the comic relief and the guy writing the sarcastic captions on someone’s adventure.
They have their own language and I watch them move to their own tune and parts of it echo dances of my own years ago. It is both comforting and a slight shade of blue to see it, keeping me comfortably uncomfortable and giving an ideas to pursue- from the cinematic view of the third person, where you are afforded the luxury of your own objectivity, or twisted sense of it at least.
All the clarity and almost all the wonder a boy could want, all the water and chipmunks a dog could hope to chase. There are the dreams of faces, food and phone calls that bring us back home but those alone cannot bring me back down the mountain.
It is different to venture here with a dog, the very virtue of fidelity. He reaffirms my commitments and comforts me in the most desolate places. He worries in my place and makes me smile where I’d prefer a serious tones. I am his confidence and he is mine. We leap together and take turns leading. He trusts me implicitly and I him- a marvelous bond for any man and his friends.
This place is just a splinter of beauty this world has to offer a California dreamer. I know of 9 wonders of the world, the eighth is that great lake, There is one other that swallows it completely, a crystal eyed wonder wonder, that can dim and steal the blue and leave the lake gray. I’ve seen the look cut through the night to me, all the stars I’d need. And looking upon that wonder, makes even the most arrogant question his place in the world. Bearing witness could dethrone Kings, humble presidents, give more warmth and comfort than any chapel, and challenge every bit of your perception in a single glance.
-Off to find her
