orlando, florida - february 23, 2007

it's bobo's birthday. none of you reading this will know who bobo is, but i do and i needed to get that out.

happy birthday, bobo!

this will be my last post to this blog. it's served its purpose. and i can hear my voice again, calling me. calling you, too, so you can look for me here. (that's a link, btw, for those who've been wondering....)

but by way of transition, here's something that emerged while i was trying just to write a straightforward e-mail to one o' dem types we sometimes call a best friend about my arrival in disneyworld...i mean, orlando:

or LAN dough

how weird is it to be
in suburban orlando
behind a gate with a manufacturer's label
'timber isle'
but there is no isle with timber
and the closest grocery store is a wal-mart
and if you listen real close
you can hear the waltons
wishing themselves
a financially good night

tricia is learning how to play the electric guitar in the living room
which has something to do with poetry
and jigsaw puzzles
and girl guides earning science badges
and what does "digital" mean, anyway?
or so she asks
while i print a banana walnut bread recipe
'cause we have overripe bananas
and too much spare time
even though the spare is flat
and we're kind of bumping along
and pretending it's just the uneven road
which it is
but not just

some inflation required
our boxes should read

[breathe]

so i can thank you
for taking care of yourself
and turning into the wind and spray
thrown up by your prow
plowing through fear's dark harbour

that
i mean this
is what it feels like
to throw open your arms
to hold the hazy wraith of disappointment
'cause nobody who loves you
and i mean you
will walk away