Morning mirage on Pleasantdale Road

[jack_babalon]

I sit on a cold rock waiting for the bus. The fog hangs pretty in the trees. I watch the last lights of Christmas flicker. They look like a distant skyline off the sea from way out here, way across the busy street. For a moment i'm on a ship again and the air tastes of salt and anticipation. I can feel my "Sea legs" adjusting and readjusting to the cresting waves beneath the hull. I remember the feeling standing there on the fantail during the last hours before the sun that I was living in a giant snowglobe and that if I was just a little bit stronger why I'd take off this here boot of mine and hurl it up into that great big old dome of the night sky and when it shattered the stars would come cascading down and it would snow a white light that blanketed the Earth and there would never again be an "Up" or a "Down" an "Out there" or "In here".
The bus is coming finally. Around me the passengers start to silently gather up their bags and put out their smokes. The Christmas lights are still flickering in the windows of the lazy. A distant port I'll never reach. A mirage of another world shimmering visions of another mans life I shared.