|Travel (standard:poetry, 521 words)|
|Author: Billy Jack Baxter||Added: Sep 23 2003||Views/Reads: 1627/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A study in contrast of two places I truly love.|
TRAVEL I imagine myself sitting on the porch watching the sun spill over themountains coloring the autumn leaves. I feel the gentle rock of the boat on the Gulf and gaze at the purple-red sky in the late afternoon. I feel the strong tug of my line when my bait fools a lazy grouper. I smell the smoke of pinon and cedar in the fireplaces as it rises from quaint adobe chimneys. I can feel the snow white sand so fine it squeaks when you lazily drag your feet. I smell the chilies roasting in their large squirrel cages in the valley and the smell of oysters, boiled shrimp and stale beer on ancient wood floors in the Gulf Coast bars. My eyes feast on hollyhocks and Lombardy poplars that give color and outline the roads and shield the wind on the desert plains. I smell gardenias and magnolias and my eyes devour the azaleas and dogwoods that bloom at Easter in the South. I feel the warm humid ocean breezes in my hair as I cruise down AIA, 150 miles down in the Keys. I smile and laugh at the sights and sounds of the nightlife at the Tiki Bar at Islamorada and Sloppy Joe's and Captain Tony's on Duval Street in Key West. I can taste that green chile stew and hear the old boards creak on the floor at the Los Ojos Bar in Jemez Hot Springs. I smell that queer sweet smell of artesian reservoirs where I would swim as a kid. I feel the temperature change from cool to cold as I drive by irrigated alfalfa fields in the Pecos Valley on a warm summer night. I taste the salt on my lips when it dries after a swim in the Gulf and feel the raw power of the surf as my board catches a wave out on the island. And, I imagine the cottonwood leaves spiraling down without a sound on a crisp New Mexico evening. Spiraling down so softly ..... like the stars are shedding ashes. I can see these things, feel, smell and taste these things. All I have to do is go to that room in my mind, close and lock the door. I will not let the noise and insanity of this vile place enter this room. This is the room of silence, of deep meditation, of peace andfreedom. It is not a room of dreams but a quiet room and the gateway to real places I can visit. Itis not a room of sleep, for sleep is only a brief export to some dark, vacant place I rarely later recall. If only for a brief moment, this room keeps me sane in this insane moment in time. But now I must unlock the door and go out into the now and this reality I must face. These rooms and doors are the key to my survival in this nightmare than only we can imagine. Always keep the doors and locks oiled for easy access. Never underestimate the power of your mind, for your mind can set you free. Billy Jack Tweet
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