Tuesday, August 01, 2006

heat



Poetry is not natural to me. I suck at it. Bad.

But if I were to write a poem now, it would be titled heat.

Somehow, if I were actually good with words, I'd tie in imagery of heat to words like draining, tiring, hopelessness, "on empty", etc.

Then I'd tie those words to situations I am currently in:

1) Obi-Wan: still in the hospital. Still facing potential amputation. The reports I gather go back and forth. I was not present during his doctor's visit yesterday. But I did get to talk to some head nurse of the doctor's office or something. She gave a positive outlook. Something about a non-surgury process that sucks the plaque out of clogged veins in his legs.

Then I call last night and he says his doctors said there was no hope. Something must be amputated.

I've never cried over another man's legs before. Or even mine for that matter.

Then this morning a different doctor said that maybe some sort of rehab is what he needs.

Basically, all of this is being filtered through Obi-Wan's poor communication skills. So I really don't know what's happening yet.

2) All vegetation in the fair mother city is dried up. I dug up half of my garden as it's a charred wasteland. I salvaged the okra and bell pepper plants (which haven't produced jack). They are hearty plants but are proving to be a waste of water this year.

Amazingly enough, the garden I planted for Obi-Wan is doing great. It's not a heavy producer but it's lush and green. Okra give off real well. And tomatoes and peppers are doing better than I could have guessed. Plus, volunteer watermelons are doing real well. His garden is shaded by a pecan tree for half the day, and the side of his house the other half. Therefore, it holds moisture for a long time. Plus, his soil is excellent.

As I'm told and as I read...Jesus lived off the people he ministered to. I wonder if that's kin to Obi-Wan giving me all his garden produce. He doesn't want it.

So, I'm getting fresh produce this year. Just not from my own back yard.

CEO - please bring relief from this oppressive heat. In our weather and our lives.

2 comments:

Mike said...

dude, it is only bad poetry, or bad art for that matter if you do it half assed, that is, you don't put your self into it.

nice pic, btw

Agent B said...

Yeah, I know.

When it comes to words, I feel pretty half-assed.

So it goes.