And it wants so badly to go on.
The evidence is everywhere.
Spring bursts forth.
The walking man looks for evidence of life.
The grasses push up below the branches that pop with new leaves and flowers.
The bugs and birds awaken.
The stars rotate around a point in the sky.
The moon tucks away as the sun pushes all the dark purple out of the sky.
The man fuels body with vitamins and olive oil.
The quest for evidence of life continues.
The pattern is a game of hide and seek.
Of go away and come back.
Of generate, degenerate, and generate again.
Playing poor; playing wealthy; playing middle class; playing snob.
If there’s a game to be played, it may as well be the loving one, where seagulls float overhead with grace and beauty, where honoring the passing curve of an ass, the creator on walking sticks, is a national pastime.
