8.04.2004

The map is not the territory. Come along a narrow back alley with me, it's not what you think. I should mention unpaved, sometime gravel, gone to weeds with overgrown apple trees and blackberry brambles spilling over fences stumbling downhill patched with baling wire and hog panels. No rhyme or reason to the lots or houses, mix and match, neighborhood patchwork of cottages and barns and houses and sheds. Gardens dripping with vegetables and sprinklers ratcheting soaking flowery beds of dahlias and sunflowers and roses.

The sun set red and flushed the sky, those high thin clouds racing dreams to the east. Wheel ruts made the five of us in our jaunt to the market rearrange position numerous times but it was nice and we all talked and walked gamboling.

The thin old toothless man who goes dancing at local music shows in his navy uniform with his long white beard lives two blocks down where the alley widens and is sandy and grassy. He gave us sweet potatoes he had harvested from his garden. He was slicing open some speaker wire he had gleaned from a dumpster and taking the copper out because copper is a dollar a pound you know, and China is taking a toll on all natural resources right now right they're the new superpower but the US just throws it away you know. Treasures in dumpsters you know. JJ asked is this your beautiful cat and he said well I don't claim ownership but we live together you know.

The sky bled violet and indigo, that point of dusk when you can see beyond the atmosphere like it's so much deep water, the first brightest evenstars shine a million miles away. The universe has no map, no time to travel. The trees above went black against the sky and little bats made their erratic frantic flights after insects. We plucked berries from the wild vines and felt them explode against our tongues, and Ali's little dog sniffed every tuft of grass, and Ali and Jay held hands sometimes. They both have such sweet smiles. S and JJ bought a bottle each of red wine and S got chocolate at the corner grocery store, and we walked back to JJ's new home in the dark. All the neighbors' dogs were out on patrol doing their dog business taking care of their yard perimeter and sounding alarms as we passed.

We had a nice evening on the little front deck surrounded by roses, JJ brought out two elegant candles to shed some light on the matter. I found myself examining the facets of their faces as they smiled and spoke and sipped from crystal glasses a friend had given JJ to warm the house; they resonated with a low note better felt than heard. I watched the face of my man and thought about how romantic and beautifully poetic he looked with white shirt and pale roses by candlelight it might be a hokey cliche but I don't care.

Faces are maps but not the territory, just as a picture is worth a thousand words but you might not know location or events without a caption. I travelled the lines of his face last night, hairline, shapes, all the straights and curves and concaves, much travelled and much loved paths. It changes with the days. The territory changes.