Back from vacation, from Berkeley to the real world . . .
(There is something comforting about reality after all, and something nice about everything surreal.)
And which would I pick? Poland, Ohio or Berkeley? folks ask with a smirk. (Californians have a way of gloating, don't they?)
Let me ask you . . .
Which will it be? Fried chicken or sauteed parsnips? Late spring or sun/wind-scorched days? Pantsuits or skin tight jeans? SADS or skin cancer? Mansions for $300,000? (Or in Youngstown for $100,000) Or 3 bedroom homes for 1.5 million bucks and up? A life that ebbs and flows or one that rushes and surges--the people all caught up in the rush, racing past like salmon going upstream. Oh I wonder. . .
Do you prefer to slow dance? Or spin like a dervish? Do you think of your life as the color and song of dusk? Or do you live in neon 24-7?
Do you live with a chip on your shoulder? A sense of apology, as if something isn't ever quite right? (It never is, is it?)
Or do you think everyone wishes they were you--or at least living where you are? Yes, it's so. If only everyone were there, if only, . . . then they might know how bright life really is, like a flash bulb . . .
Don't blink. Keep your eyes open. You might miss it.