I Know Who You - Our

January 1, 2010

The first day of the next year it is. Where the heck has the ten years gone since I can remember being on the rez and wondering how to welcome in the new millennium. Where would I be? I wasn’t one of those who worried about Y2K.

As you can recall that scare was basically nothing at all; just a big hype about a little thing that hadn’t affected most people one iota. Who started that silly rumour any way? Had to be one of those befuddled little computer might’s who sleep on computer key bored’s after spending too many hours while trying to figure out how to scare the public with something they don’t know about and probably never will… or even care for that madder.

What I did do was travel to Chicago with yesterdays written tribute friend as we both celebrated New Year’s Eve at the Navy Pier along with thousands of other revelers. We parked not that far from the pier, in one of the well organised spaces. We rang in the New Year listening to a Jazz group before watching the fireworks begin with a huge bang on the roof top of one of the skyscrapers.

The whole room ran to the door of the nightclub. Everyone at once looked up at that point of the Sears Tower I think it was and huddled together outside in awe of the spectacle. There wasn’t an inebriated beyond control person in sight; least as far as I could smell; but there were certainly more than your usual count of moms and baby carriages; and of course it wasn’t as populated as Times Square in NYC would have been; being inside the scrum so to speak, it felt pretty close.

When the whole show was over, after walking what at the beginning seemed like a short walk, wasn’t at this point. We labored at a slow crowd controlled crawl. Finally arriving at the vehicle we had to wait for the longest time for the still reveling sea of humanity to pass before we could even pull out of our parking spot. Wonderful celebration that was in deed. I actually don’t remember seeing any uniformed or otherwise security agents within hearing distance. Cool, that.

Speaking of distance, low ‘n be wholed, and much too early for mmy U.S. revelry but not for hers, Lassed - Knight a good friend called to say ‘ello; from Wales no less. (I LOVE that country) Even in this day and passed what are ages of technology and forever’s happened many times besides this ‘Little’ one, I always think these kinds of things are amazing. It’s the distance really; or the timing of it actually. Think about it; for mme at least, it always seems to be because of the hours ahead or behind ‘they’ are, either back or forward; well, the forward at least feels to mme like it’s a call from the future. Not as often do I think of the reverse; doesn’t seem as amazing I suppose. Needless to say, like being struck with lightening, dazed ‘n confused as they say, I never seem to ask these callers from such a distance of time, what the heck should I expect in a few hours? I figure this would be a good thing to know especially if a huge asteroid were too close to our circle around the son. You know, or just in case I quickly need to find a hole to crawl into or in the frantic run to save mmyself or whomever’s with mme, one of those muscular looking, heavy duty ‘n won’t break if the sky falls on it - claw tub. Hoping the plumbing holds out and I don’t drown instead.

Say Jan, lovely hearing your voice. Although sounding quite sober as it was past your point of the magic 12 hour, (pubs closed were they?) aye DID hear every familiar pip as well as drops in the box, thank you very much; the timing was perfect. If by chants you didn’t hear it in mmy tones, which I can’t fathom really because I’mm sure you heard your welcomed touch across the big blue and beyond, as being a very pleasant sir prize. I’mm gonna hafta make it over sooner.

In any case, here it is ten years later than Y2K and eight more stops along the way to the next one. Welcome to 2010… sheesh, time never stops, eh? Last night was not as crowded as years passed, but this little ode was written after one of the latest, a beautiful and most quiet night snow storm that was more like a sprinkle of Tinkerbelle’s dust; a pleasant walk and quiet enough to in joy a smile.

Remembering all that, this morning I woke up, head in hand, eyes almost open, clean shaven from the night before and smelling like a bard of soap; I pet mmy cat FACE, rolled outta bed, turned on Mr. Lapped Topp; from beginning too end deliver this, ‘a little while ago thing,’ at the same time wishing you a MMerry, MMerry ‘n the best of whatever’s to come your way but even more happily sow:

I Know Who You - Our

After experiencing the too short light and bright
Daze of summer I’mm not really enamoured
Of the everyday, sometimes more a day
Rituals of clothes in counters layer upon layer
Head to toe, cold in snow protection; I could
‘Fore go that part of life in a heartbeat. Unless
It’s mmy choice to go to it. Most times
Aisle knot appreciate the white dumping on the
Head, toes, hands or shoo’s without asking first…but
It’s always such a pleasant feeling to walk in
A quiet snowfall as it dusts the landscape
At night; small town lights a glow of
The passing holiday season when all
The street poles, thinned, barely trees are lit
Width streams of miniature colours that hold
Hands with mistletoe; stretched full strands of
Pine branches strung about their height and breadth.
All across Main Street wires, one after an other
Continued down a couple of the short blocks
That makes up tiny town’s quaint center’s shops.
Most of all not empty at this point.
Visiting the local library for a few hours
This was the scene that greeted mme wild
Strolling the 400 steps towards this current home.
I listened to each crunch of the alternating
Singular footsteps; first the step and then the
Squeeze and crunch of still soft but hardening snow.
I looked forward to a clean slate of white be for mme.
Too seconds later, eye turned around to question;
Bearing witness to a chosen path of the single footsteps
Unevenly designed stretching from close in to out of view;
Walking past familiar shapes passed every day
For the last several months; two times a day most times,
The late hour séance lingered with a steady beat of walking.
I looked for Mr. Squirrel who always seems to greet mme
At the right time of our familiar convergence, day or night.
How they do this one would guess is with an eye phone.
He always scampers towards his favourite tree, passing mme.
I have yet to hand him a morsel but think about it always, especially
When he runs to the tree base and climbs the opposite side
Out of site; but this time he let mme watch as he stopped
Twelve feet up on his usual knot to perch and chew his nuts.
Tonight he gazed down at the human who waved to him staring
Up to see if he notices. When he did, he just waited for mme
To make the next move. I didn’t. He didn’t. We both stared
At each other for a minute or more while the soft dusting of the snow
Played a quiet mmelody that both of us could feel.
A silent stare was our hello; I see you and I know who you – our.