let's not fall back to sleep like we used to

Summer has given way to September.


Not roses so much as a few lingering blackberries.


Three months ago this here Garden City's sprawling pseudo-suburbs felt about as estranged as the Sundurbans.


Glass buildings and blue skies.


And the refined romance of parking lots.


Even graffiti seemed foreign to me.


A world that emanates from the centripetal force that is Douglas.


It was taking pleasure in free piles and ungoverned plant growth.


Stadium swatches;


geometrical shapes;


flirtatious run-ins across the water with the big city.


It's been three months.

Three months on the sub-continent and I was heading up to some commercial stronghold in the Punjab to see a classical music festival at a Hindu temple where ragas wafted until daybreak.

Now I've got my records to hibernate in this slanted floating cavern.


A swift little breeze, that was.