[Kätzchen]

As Dayle and Nikita drove with fevered imaginations to the destination stop, they relentlessly argued about everything from failed banking transactions, appointments with each other that they missed: Lack of deep sleep to reasons of why they were driving like maniacs on a highway darkened by the shadows of huge Redwood trees to the chasm of aimlessly dense fog that engulfed them.

“Why are we driving to that pick-up point?” Nikita questioned Dayle, with pointed delivery of tone.


“Because CC would do it for me,” Dayle hissed, “if I ever needed a secret means of getting back to home with you, Nikita” as hy drove with continued fervor, trying to make sure they made it to the pickup point, where Hy and CC had arranged to meet.

“All I want is time just for us without us having to do X, Y and Z for your friend CC,” remarked Nikita, giving voice to her deeply felt anxiety.

“Nikita, can we put this conversation off until we accomplish this task,” Dayle feverishly pleaded with her as he drove frantically on the foggy highway.

Laying Hys hand on Nikita’s thigh, Nikita took Dayle’s hand and held it tightly. Deliberately sighing with anxiousness, she just wanted to be home again with Dayle and have Hys undivided attention. She silently assured Dayle, by firmly holding Hys hand, indicating she was willing to set the conversation aside; because even though she really wanted the conversation to continue, she knew when Dayle was genuinely frustrated by hazardous road conditions.

It seemed as though the fog deepened with each curve of the road. The road became more treacherous because of black-ice conditions. All it would take would be one failed maneuver in driving and they would be completely helpless; as now they were in a cell free zone and no town in site for miles to get help, should they lose control of the truck Dayle was driving.

Dayle was worried about why Hy hadn’t seen the locomotives’ engine light because hy had been able to see the train weave in and out of the timbered foliage – well, until the fog became so dense. Hy was thinking that they should have come upon the train crossing by now and it worried Hym that maybe they had missed the pickup point: right before the train tressle crossed a canyon that dropped off into a gorge, which led to the violent surge of the ocean near Whaler’s Head Bay. Hy had been watching the odometer on the dash of the truck because in the fog, Hy couldn’t see anything and had to rely on the device to cue him for the point of destination. Just as the odometer rolled past mile 43, Dayle slowed down. Carefully seeking a turn-out place in the fog, the road seemed to have no direction, no rhyme or reason.

“Something isn’t right!” Dayle sighed heavily. “We should have been there by now. Where the hell is it, this place we should be waiting at?”

It was just about then, that the dueling, bickering, angels appeared on Dayles’ shoulders.

“See! I told you SO!” the ‘bad-boi’ angel spoke on one shoulder.

“Don’t listen to Hym!” replied the ‘good-boi’ angel on the other shoulder.

“I told you to shut UP!” glared the ‘bad-boi’ angel on one shoulder, back to the ‘good-boi’ angel on the other shoulder.

“Don’t listen to Hym, or Hy’ll drive you Car-razy!” argued the ‘good-boi’ angel, in defense of honoring the most logical of thoughts.

“lalalalalalalalalala!” shouted Dayle’s conscience over the bickering angels, dueling in their own private inferno!

It was just about then, when Nikita realized that something was going on in Dayle’s mind while driving. Hys driving became erratic as they accelerated over a small hill. And as they were descending into what appeared to be hairpin curves, Nikita and Dayle exchanged a moments-quick kiss. Upon entering the third harrowing curve with frightful speed, Dayle and Nikita both gasped as they realized what lay in front of them: railroad cars that had encountered derailment and had sprawled onto the highway haphazardly: With only a second moments notice to apply the brakes to keep from plowing into the derailed train cars!

“DAYYYYYLLLLLLLLE,” Nikita screamed!

And with that, Dayle let go of Nikita’s hand and focused on saving them both from the fate of dying while slamming into the cars.

Dayle rapidly swung the steering wheel into a 180; but they slammed the back of the truck into one car, which caused them to ricochet into another derailed car - all the while (still in consciousness) Dayle kept maneuvering the truck with each time it slammed into another obstacle.

When they finally came to a halt after the impact they both lay unconscious, as if stunned by the magnitude of the impact. Certainly now, there were no more bickering angels for Dayle to listen to and certainly it appeared that there were to be no more complex conversations to manage with Nikita.

And there they all lay amid the train wreck of the century: the fog deepening with each surge of the ocean below, and the eeriness of an early fall morning signaling a silent opus, yet to begin, with an electrified fever…



~~~~~





Dearest Diary,

The final assent is yet to begin upon the Everest of all mountains. Each precipice must be carefully mounted because the journey has many unknowns yet to be negotiated. I know it’s been awhile since I’ve had time to record my thoughts --- but you know how time is so precious and how many objectives I’ve yet to accomplish. Time is of the essence. And today, that essence calls me to pay attention to details.


And, just how is it that time passes so quickly?

The answer is so simple, yet ever so complex: Isn’t that just amazing?

I never fully knew just how magical this flight would be. Even with the unforeseen events, this passage in time has become quite the most notorious of ‘carpet rides’ yet.However, antiquated details or not, I find that I’ve still yet to come to terms with personal loss in life: That of my brother, whom I silently remember today with this poem.

Wherever you are today Mike, I know you know those unforeseen items on my menu. This poem is for you, my sweet baby brother, who left for who knows where in time *** (See, side note below).


It’s just like J. William Fulbright once stated: “In the long course of history, having people who understand your thought is much greater security than another submarine.”

***Side Note: I write poetry as a way to cope with stressors in my everyday life existence. Be it perceived losses I experience with members of my family to loss of any relationship I value in life or even stress I experience as a joy filled moment, I use poetry as a means to help me mediate and provide balance to my life.

A Death, by Insanity

It happened one day
Just out of nowhere
I was minding my own business
With not even one care

When out of the blue
Staring right back at me
Was the reflection of a sadist-
Channeling: “You’re crucified, to a ‘T’!”

How dare this happen
At a time like this
When I’m starved for your affection
or even your 'deep kiss'!

But the blackness of this magic
Was returned back with a stare-
Revealing a deeper revelation:
More like a nightmare.

I calmly replied, being ever so steely
“Blood to this ‘T’, are like diamonds to rust;
A revel-some lust that will expand and bust
Only to reveal: a death, by insanity.”

The lips in the mirror began to explain:
“Your memory serves you well.
Now go forth, and be sane!”

Oh! What a day that will be, one morn’
More like an epiphany:
Echoing the fragrance of a rose
As if nicked by a thorn

It is: sweet jubilee.

LDS © September 2nd, 2007