Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Many Limbed Oak

I had this dream the other night. I’d bought two old ’69 cameros. 350 HP engines. And I parked them in the drive. I looked over at a huge oak tree. And it had many limbs. But beyond these lims was a huge trunk twisting lift to right into the sky. Either it was broken, cut or disappeared in cloud…

Then I went into the trailer and found the floor flooded. I went to turn off the flooding water in the bathroom and managed to save the carpet. I then left and returned later and a big dog was on a chain by the front door. I was supposed to be scared and I knew if I was scared, the dog would bite me. But I just walked up to the door. Two enemies I don’t know, just people who wished me harm, were in the yard. I go in the house and pet this puppy on the carpet, look up, and there’s my wife or girlfriend and I notice the floor’s flooded again.  I stick my head out and ask my enemies if they know what happened. “Where’s the leak?” They shrug.

I know I’ll have to cut the carpet at this exact spot and pull all the carpet to save the floor. Easy, I think. Ain’t nothin’.  I feel she is waiting. Like the form of our relationship isn’t sorted yet. I stick out my head and ask them what food they want. KFC and some other stuff. I come back in, let you choose which camero you want. Give you those keys to keep. Say: “Please go get us food, flatscreen TV, DVD player, DVD’s, etc. while I clean up this carpet mess.” I hand her a bunch of money. I “give her” and I “do”. I am a man.

And then it comes back to the oak tree in the distance. The many limbs in the foreground and the huge trunk in the background. 

I’ve been a man before like that. Up before the sunrise for work. Nodding off on the drive home.
If I get out and work, she will come. If I get it straight again she will be there. But I don’t want her. I want ‘she-who-will-be-here-now.’ When I am not a “man” in the usual sense. 

She who will recognize that what I’m doing, and have done thus far, is what a true man can only do. But what a work-a-day man can do is what any ol’ man does.

No female sees this struggle – I’ve purposively placed myself into for a reason – no female respects it because they’re blinded by the mainstream man. They see the many limbed oak and don’t look past the acorns and leaves to the huge trunk zig-zagging into the sky (or into nothingness?) in the background.

I could still be at my job on the streets but it’s I had to do these things, all this had to be accomplished, even if she never presents herself at least I’ve found the real me in it. It’s a gamble. And I hope she comes… 

In Strength (but…) Love and Struggle,