followed a trail of ants to the balcony today and thought of bees crawling up rocking chairs with pollen fallin from their pockets like lint. like when i spent a week in the woods of north georgia with a pile of books, a laptop, pen and pad, 5 gallons of water, 8 bottles of wine, 1 pound of coffee and enough food to live on til i came down the mountain, belly rumblin. mostly lentils and rice with seasonings and hot sauce, but also smoked sockeye salmon and olives, dark rye and baguette, pecans and cheese. spent my days writing and reading, sitting on the porch, shoutin Spanish rooster calls from the railroad ties, KIRIKIKI. passed nights with a bottle of wine and a roaring fire in the pot-bellied stove, listening to opossums falling from the branches overhead and landing on the tin roof in a thud, their bodies sliding down the metal and scurrying off into the leaves.
may we all be opposums hanging by our tails from limbs. or rats crawling up walls and falling from ceilings onto bellowing bandoneons. after all, it takes 2 to tango, but i prefer the footwork of a sunday chacarera. a gaucho spins and stomps on the floorboards, and the wind picks up from the southeast, blowing the river of silver up onto muddy banks. but we climb up picnic tables and stand upon grills, shimmy up trees and perch upon branches. we rallador to the beat of cumbia, plant seeds and harvest crops to the rhythm of the tambor.