You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Summer Time.
The calendar says Spring, but with the temperatures in the 80’s the good vibrations are just around the corner.
If you’re like me you are sick of the rain and the cold weather.
I’m tired of turtle necks and scarves and turning the heat on in the car.
As far as I’m concerned, bring on the sunshine, crank it up, and let the Coppertone flow.
I stood in an asphalt parking lot for ten minutes today, just to absorb some radiant heat.
I was by a dumpster, near a loading dock, staring at the back of a car dealership.
I was a momentary vagrant, just intersecting this moment of life.
I didn’t care about the dumpster or the loading dock or the car dealership. I just raised my gaze above it all, to the heavens. There in the deep blue void was the ball of fire I desire.
I had to squint as I bathed in the brilliance, inhaled the heat, lathered in the layers of sweltering loveliness.
Co-workers came and went, staring at me with a curious grin. I waved, they waved back. What they didn’t realize is, I wasn’t waving to them. I was waving to the sun, saying hello to the golden orb, thanking him for being there today.
I watch as a puffy cloud floats by. It looks like a pasty faced Rosie O’Donnell. It has a thumb, hanging out in the void, like a meteorological hitch hiker heading wherever this warm breeze highway blows.
Just below the curvature of the sky, to the right of the sun, and near the end of forever, I see a glimmer of light. It’s a jet. It’s hard to see like a single grain of sand on coral beach. I watch it slowly move across the blue. Periodically it sparkles like tin foil being microwaved.
Suddenly there is a puffy vapor trail. It looks like an aeronautical blast from a jet propelled spray paint can. The trail begins as a solid, defined line. It segregates the sky into halves, like a gigantic blue tennis court. But soon the line loses its clarity like a fortune teller on Red Bull and Vodka.
As the plane moves slowly forward, almost imperceptibly ahead at 500 mph, the ether of blue absorbs the puffy exhaust.
In the distance, I hear a fire engine roar.
“Jim call the operator” screams from a loud speaker at the car lot.
A bird squawks.
I smile at the sky. I think I see the sun wink back.
I head inside relishing ten minutes that amount to nothing. But it makes me wish I knew where that Jet was headed, perhaps to a place where a tropical umbrella comes with every frothy beverage.
Or maybe just Cleveland.
Oh well.
Life’s Crazy™