You peek my interest.

Pique, sure, but here you are . . .

[Mild content warning: references to biological functions]
But, urine luck because the snow long ago melted. It seeped into the rocks and sand, gravity carrying it into the lake. And then micro currents carried some of it upstream into the river, but most of it went downstream from the dam and it merged with other streams into one river, and that river flows into the sea. All rivers flow into the sea.

1+1 = too

One plus One is forever Three.

In a personal font–continuous, contiguous, connected and cursive, the color of corn– I once wrote my full name in that snow beside that lake.

There is a place on SE Plum Drive, where I smell fish . . . I have once a week, sometimes twice, since last August. It’s on my Joy Route, and I discovered something the last time: My Prayer Route is just on the other side of this Joy Route, and Ray’s Farm rests between them, connects them beautifully with a tiqvah made of grass, growing wild.

On my Jesus Route I offered a sacrifice of blackberries and almost died. But not anymore.

Once, as a kid, I saw a six-foot black snake in the latrine at church camp. I let it bite my right hand three times before I gently grasped it behind its head. Then, I carried it to a cool counselor who walked with me down to the creek where we released it.

Best nut ever: the almond. Definitely a nut!
Selfish sacrifice: dark chocolate.
When combined, the two remain two, becoming also one thing.

The last time I was on Furnberg Street, just before it turns onto 70th, then back onto Plum Drive,  Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto #2 came on the radio. I wept as I rounded the corner onto Fish Market Lane during the adagio, just as the clarinet enters.

Another time, I was with Roy, the second chair drummer in the high school band, wandering around in the woods outside DeQueen, Arkansas. It was the 1970s and we had long hair and wore a lot of denim. I said hey Roy, let’s look for turtles or lizards. We did. And, the first chair caught a lizard like he had caught a snake. Strange, the lizard’s tail just came off in my hand, and the lizard ran free, thank God. I broke the tail in half, gave a piece to Roy.
I swallowed my half, and I can still feel Tail of Lizard, wiggling as it goes down.
Parts of it with parts of me
One day flowing into the sea

My Train of Thought runs off the tracks . . . and keeps going.

I imagine a road trip: traveling south to north, pacing it to see the first bloom of spring, Again and Again.
Stay the summer there and drink water all the time.
Then, north to south in Autumn. Slowly falling over and over, like the leaves from the trees that are connected at root level in all dimensions.
Keep a fire going all winter.
Ritually rinse.

Photography and Text © 2017, Timothy Waugh