Chasing Parked Cars

I've been chasing parked cars, speaking someone else's language, pursuing someone else's dreams.

I've always known those facts about me, but choose to hide from myself, reprogram myself, give myself over to a world of thoughts that are not mine because I have no other universe in which to live out my language and my dreams.

There is no escape, no hidden doors with cipher locks to decode, no deus ex machina to take me to another place.

Occasionally, I cycle back around to these thoughts and stick out my thumb to catch a seat on someone's dream ride.

Not today.

Not yesterday.

Maybe not tomorrow.

Unplugged from the magic machine.  Not wanting to hide in my dreams or alcoholic drinks.

Stark wet, cold reality.

The wild cat's in the catfood bag again, out of the rain, in the dry, trusting me enough to turn its back on me and eat.

Birds chirping in the trees nearby.

Tired, tired of these words, tired of seeking, tired of rediscovering the unveiling of the mystery that there are no more mysteries.

The Book of the Future belongs to no one.  Its predictions ask me if we'll really ever want to put total peace ahead of profit.  Of course, we already know the answer to that question.  Life is risk - peace is the illusory state when risks are at a minimum and profit at its lowest.

Checks and balances.

The wild cat finally [carefully] walked over to be petted and jumped in my lap.  Guess it's an all right day after all.  Maybe the chipmunk and squirrels will hop over to me next.  The mosquitoes sure haven't stopped biting.

Time for lunch.